The Ongoing Struggles of a Teenage Alpha
by Ray by Another Name
Summary: Jackson's continued adventures at figuring out this whole alpha thing. And complaining about it. Basically every trope from A/B/O fanfiction turned into a punchline. Because puberty sucks for everyone. Its a rule. Jackson & Ramona heavy. A/B/O Dynamics. Popko is a regular as well. Be aware: I update this actively on Ao3 and will update here on FF all at once every few months.
1. Presenting is a Bitch

Jackson goes through the very lovely experience of presenting. At the same time as Ramona. Just, absolutely fantastic. No sexual content.

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics.

This first chapter was a one-shot inspired by a prompt from my Promptastic Challenge over on Ao3. Please feel free to submit a prompt for me over there! Or to use one for your own one-shot. ;)

* * *

**Presenting is a Bitch**

Jackson threw his backpack towards the floor and promptly flung himself onto his bed. Face down.

It had been a long, looong, day.

Mostly because of Ramona. Ok. Entirely because of Ramona. Snapping at everyone at breakfast, talking back to teachers at school, she'd somehow managed to ostrize her entire clique by lunch. And then she'd sat with him!

Him! At lunch!

And what did he do? He sat there. Just. Sat there.

Ramona didn't talk him. No, of course not, that would have been useful! No. She'd just sat there too. Picking at her food. Pressing her arm against his.

God, it had only gotten worse from there.

Stolen his backpack to use as a pillow during study hall.

Yeah. That went over well with his teacher. He got detention! For something she did!

Ok. Ok. He might have made a remark about letting sleeping hyenas lie, but come on! Ramona had been bitchy all day. If she was asleep she couldn't yell at him!

Not that she had actually. Now that he thought about. In fact, she hadn't said a word to him all day.

Jackson flipped over onto his back, narrowing his eyes on the ceiling.

"She had to have yelled at me…" Jackson twisted his lips in thought, "It's Ramona." It's basically been her job for the last few years.

Uncle Jessie had even commented!

Though it had been in reference to the horribleness of having two teenagers going through puberty at the same time.

But it was right after Ramona had made a crack about his shirt and told him to stop embarrassing himself and her at school with his sense of style.

So it was Ramona's fault.

Jackson sat up suddenly.

Ramona hadn't made one joke about him all day.

Not. One.

"Maybe she's dying?" Jackson stood up. He kind of wanted to check now. He'd basically been wrangling her all day after all. Plus, what if Max or Tommy stepped into her warpath.

It was his civic duty as an older brother! Really!

It had absolutely nothing to do with the nagging worry in the back of his head. Or the odd desire to protect her.

Ramona was his archnemisis.

"An archnemisis is a terrible thing to waste," Jackson said to himself as he swung his legs to side and got out of bed. He crossed the hall and froze in her doorway.

She was on the floor, back against her bed and knees drawn up.

"What's wrong?" Jackson ventured further in, closing the door behind him as Ramona's head swung back.

Her face was coated in sweat and she made a groaning noise as she rubbed a hand over her face and into her hair.

"I don't know," Ramona whined, her voice squeaking as she tried to speak. It sounded like his when his voice was changing, but Jackson was pretty positive girls' voices didn't do that.

He plopped down beside her, back against the foot of the bed. Ramano scooched closer to him. Just like at lunch. Their legs bumped against each other as she stretched hers out.

"Ramona?" Jackson's voice hitched as she curled against his side. Her head on his shoulder and her arm tucked between them. She shook her head. Whatever words she tried to use came out as nothing more than a pained whimper.

Jackson swallowed hard as Ramona curled her legs up into his side as well. Her knees practically in his lap. She breathed out. A slow, steady breath.

That odd desire to protect her surged forward.

Ramona pressed her face into his neck when he wrapped his arm around her back. She emitted a sort of mewling noise that reminded Jackson of a cat.

That was good. A good noise.

There was still that nagging worry in the back of his mind, but it was almost entirely drowned out by how good Ramona smelled.

She liked lots of floral scents, spicy floral scents with weird names. There was a sweet scent on top of it. Lathered over the florals and her natural, slightly musky, scent.

Really sweet. Like candy. Or chocolate.

But better.

Jackson had absolutely no idea.

He rested his head against hers, burying his nose in her hair. It was a really good smell.

Ramona's hand gripped into his shirt, her fingers twisting in it as she pressed her face further against his neck.

And that! That was when the worry part of his brain supplied him with the necessary information from Freshman Year's Health class. About pheromones and phenotype presenting.

He hadn't payed that much attention. His mom, Stephanie, and Kimmy were all betas. So were his grandparents. And all the Gibblers were betas!

Jackson had been pretty positive he was going to be a beta. Ramona too actually. It was the most common. It made sense.

Except!

His dad was an alpha.

And so, apparently, was he. How'd he know that?

Well…

"Ramona?" Jackson forcefully tugged his face from her hair, "I think you might be presenting." She pressed deeper into his throat. She was all but in his lap now. "As an omega."

"Mmm," Ramona opened her mouth, her lips skimming across neck, "No."

Jackson's head was swimming. The sweet smell still stuck in his nose. His throat tingled where her lips had brushed his.

"Yes," Jackson breathed out. Ramona shook her head. Her leg crossed over his. She was officially stradling him.

There was a very big part of him, basically everything below his eyebrows, telling him to bury his face in Ramona's scent. Amongst other things. Things everything above his eyebrows was telling him Not to Think About. All Caps. With Exclamation Points!

Ramona made another mewling nose.

Whatever instinct took control in that moment was more concerned with long-term survival because it pushed Ramona off of him.

Jackson sprung to his feet, ignored the pained whimpers that Ramona was making, and fled the room. It also apparebtly left her door open because there was a stampede up the stairs that ended with Kimmy shouting Ramona's name.

Betas have the weakest nose.

That would have been a lovely thing to remember earlier. Along with all the other crap about alphas and omegas! Jackson wasn't even sure he knew any adult alphas.

Aunt Michelle? Uncle Jesse?

Eh! Why didn't people talk about this stuff more?!

"Jackson?"

That was his mom. He could still smell Ramona. Could still hear every noise coming from her room.

"Yeah?" His voice croaked. He crawled away from his door towards his bed.

Jackson planted himself between his closet and the bed. Far from the door that led to Ramona and the window where about a Bazillion noises were coming from. Loudly.

His mom was in front of him.

Jackson squinted at her. She was standing in the middle of his room, sort of fuzzy. The sweet smell was stronger.

"Door." His voice kept croaking. What the hell? And why the hell was the air so thick?! It felt like he was trying to breath water.

His mom's hand was cold on his face. He didn't have to squint. The sweet smell was sort of fading. Good. Good.

Sorta.

"Stephanie's calling Joey," his mom had a washcloth now. Where did that come from? She was wiping his face off.

Why was it so hot?

"He'll be here soon," her voice was kind of pitchy. She was worried.

Wait.

"Why's Joey?" And now his voice was sluring. Great.

She smiled at him, "He's an alpha, honey, he'll know how to help you." That sounded good. Very good.

Except...

"Ramona?" That came out clearly.

Probably not for a good reason.

That weird protective…thing…was sort of…flickering.

His mom placed a hand on his shoulder. Was he sitting up? Why did he do that?

"Kimmy's already quarantined her." Her hand pushed at his shoulder. He shrugged it of. "Fernando will get here first. He'll take care of Ramona. Ok?" Ok. That was ok.

Yeah.

Yup.

Ok.

Today had been Really Long. Like. Really Long.

God!

Presenting was a bitch.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	2. Alpha's Prerogative

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

* * *

**Alpha's Prerogative**

Being an alpha sucked.

Like, massively!

Why in the hell did anyone want to be an alpha? Popko thought it was awesome. Why? Because Popko is an idiot.

Jackson could smell everything. Everything!

Do you know how disgusting a public bathroom is? A public High School bathroom? Yeah. There's a lot of smells. Bad ones.

And he could smell everyone.

Everyone.

Every day. Every second. Everywhere!

God. Popko did not understand.

Neither did his mom. Which was, honestly, a lot more annoying.

"Are you going to send me to stay with Joey every weekend?" Jackson had a headache.

It was, for once, not Ramona induced.

Jackson pulled his head up from the counter. The blessedly cold counter. "I'm not gonna, like, snap or anything."

His mom continued to futz around the kitchen. She was making him snacks for the trip. Again.

This was the eighth weekend he was spending with Joey since he'd presented as an alpha. Do you know how many weeks it had been since said presentation.

Nine.

He'd spent the first week entirely with Joey in Vegas.  
Because being an alpha sucked and there weren't very many of them.

Apparently his dad had been a lucky recessive alpha, which meant no one else on the Fuller side BUT HIS DAD was an alpha.

Lucky was not the word Jackson would use.

Michelle was apparently an alpha. And his grandmother. But there hadn't been a male alpha on the Katsopolosis side before and betas for the Tanners as far back as anyone could tell.

Assumptions had been made. Assumptions had been wrong.

And now Jackson was spending every weekend learning 'how to be an alpha' from Uncle Joey.

Uncle Joey had taught him everything he knew within an hour.

Time. Discipline. A good coping mechanism.

Jackson figured sarcasm worked for that last one.

"I'm just not comfortable with you and Ramona in the house together yet."

Ah, the kicker.

What was the one weakness to the supremely powerful alpha?

An omega.

Which Ramona was.

Did he mention being an alpha sucked?

"Last I heard omegas only go into heat once a year," Jackson rolled his eyes. They'd had this conversation before.

Three times.

"And even when our pheremones peaked, nothing happened."

His mom put her hands on the counter and raised an eyebrow at him. Apparently she still didn't believe that.

Even though it was true!

Popko and his jealousy could go jump off a cliff.

"Could I at least go hang out with Popko?"

The eyebrows intensified.

That was a no.

Jackson groaned, tossing his head back, "I'll go pack."

He grumbled all the way upstairs, adding in a few sulky stair kicks because they made him feel better.

Plus, his mom packed extra cookies when she felt guilty. Which she should, spending the weekend with Joey meant spending the weekend with his family.

The Gladstone Four. All weekend.

Not cool.

There was one upside to the whole alpha thing.

He got his own room.

Tommy had officially become Max's roommate the wek he'd been in Vegas so Jackson got his own room again. Next to Ramona's rather than across.

A difference only in the minds of their beta mothers. Here in reality his lovely alpha senses were aware of Ramona's presence from three blocks away all the way to his door.

Which was where she was thirty minutes later when he was pretending to pack. She stood there, with her new disgusting scent suppressant clogging up his nose, for ten minutes.

"Either come in or go away already!" Jackson called out at her, lounging on his bed. His phone above him, thumbs cursing out Popko for all his beta-ness.

Ramona cleared her throat as she walked in. She wore her typical 'cool girl' scowl, but her eyes were looking at the wall.

"What do you want?" Jackson scooched back to lean against his headboard. Popko was sending him stats about alpha musculature.

Photographically.

Ew.

Ramona fidgeted slightly before placing her hands on her hips and moving her eyes to his face, "I wanted to apologize."

Jackson snorted.

"Hey!" Ramona stomped her foot, "I'm being sincere here, you could at least fake some respect."

Jackson rolled his eyes, "What are you even apologizing for?" Her cheeks turned bright red. She turned her head to look at his posters.

Oh.

He felt his cheeks warm up a bit too. He still had some super-sensory memories of Ramona's body pressed against his.

Which he was fairly certain were getting more explicit as time went on.

"You don't have to apologize." Jackson looked across the room to his computer. His still-packed-from-last-weekend bag sat on the desk beside it.

Ramona scoffed, "I'm the one who didn't realize what was happening. Omegas have a long build up before…" She cleared her throat, "Anyway. You get what I'm saying."

"Nothing happened," Jackson shrugged. It was true. Other than some overly familiar cuddling. "And I could have put the pieces together earlier too if I'd been paying attention."

The bed dipped next to him.

Jackson turned his head to find Ramona sitting on his bed next to him, derisive look on her face. It was the closest they'd been since…the incident.

"How many omegas do you actually know?" Ramona was arching an eyebrow at him.

"Apparently 7," Jackson responded automatically. He smirked, "There are two, beside you, within a ten mile radius right now."

Ramona blinked, "You can tell that?"

"Would you like to know how many betas?" Jackson watched her eyes go wide with a sense of satisfaction. He didn't actually know how many betas. Their scents blended together more and there were generally too many to count.

But. You know. Alpha's prerogitive.

"I meant before," she elbowed him between the ribs. He gasped out a breath. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, "I've always known there was a chance I'd be an omega. I should have been paying more attention."

Jackson just shrugged this time. Much safer.

"That's pretty cool that you can smell all that, " Ramona looked at, smile big, "Public restrooms must be SO fun."

Jackson groaned and sunk down on his bed, "Don't remind me!" Her laughed tugged at his instincts a bit.

"My sense of smell is better, but really I'd have to be right on top of you to distinguish your phenotype."

Jackson did not imagine her on top of him.

Much.

He should probably ask Joey why she tugged more at his instincts than…well, everyone. Every time Popko so much as mentioned Ramona he had the urge to strangle his best friend. Not to mention the dudes at school.

He'd thought it was because of The Incident, but two months on it wasn't fading so Jackson was fairly positive it wasn't.

"Except you, of course," Ramona chuckled, and Jackson's eyes snapped to hers. They shimmered.

There was a twist in his gut.

"I can smell you for like a mile," Ramona huffed out a laugh, "Even with the suppressant."

The twist lurched.

"You're like," Ramona tilted her head, thinking, "A constant scent."

Ok. Maybe the weekends away were a good idea.

"Papa says it's because you're an alpha," Ramona shrugged, "And an omega's nose is specifically meant to seek them out."

That…

Explained so much.

Probably too much. Especially about her parents' relationship. But Jackson was NOT thinking about that.

At all.

"Are omegas easier for you to smell?" Ramona looked at him, eyes wide and curious.

He swallowed. The answer was…complicated. Technically they weren't any easier to smell than betas, but there were fewer of them so it was easier to differentiate. Alphas too actually.

"Sorta?" Jackson squinted, eyes trained on his ceiling. Looking at Ramona felt…dangerous at the moment. "I think it's just easier because there are so many betas."

"Hmm," Ramona puckered her lips as she thought. She turned her head slightly, tossing her hair. Her scent wafter towards him in a big wave.

The sour scent was strongest - like a lime squeezed directly onto his tongue kind of strong. It pushed that naggy little desire to shove Ramona down on his bed…down. Her spicy floral perfume was easy to distinguish as well.

He kind of wanted to ask what its name was, just so he knew what to call it in his head. But that would call attention to the whole parsing her scent thing.

Not high in his to do list.

Her natural musk was just distinguishable and it was by far Jackson's favorite. It didn't make him nauseous like the sour scent or dizzy like the sweet one - which was, thankfully, absent. And it was just vaguely pleasant in a way the florals just, weren't.

"Jackson?"

And Ramona was talking to him again.

"What?" He watched her roll her eyes. Obviously he'd tuned her out for a minute. Oh well.

She shuffled herself on the bed, bringing her legs underneath her, "Has anyone…said anything?" He raised an eyebrow. She unnecessarily tucked a lock of hair behind her ear again, "At school?"

"About…" Jackson gestured for her to continue. She just blushed. "About you?" She nodded. Still blushing. "Being an omega?"

The answer was yes. But only so far as Popko filling him in on the school gossip when he got back. Lola had laid down the law before Ramona had returned to school.

"Not really."

She breathed out a sigh of relief. Her hand pushing through her hair. He swallowed hard when her scent hit him this time. Full frontal attack, full weapons array.

"Could you," he choked out, "not do that." He closed his eyes and sunk down lower on his bed, "It's kind of…distracting."

Ramona's cheeks went cherry red. He was officially looking up at her from his pillow. His own scent encompassing and cocooning him.

"Sorry," she sat up straighter and Jackson waved her off.

It was dissipating, "It's cool." It wasn't. But it also wasn't Ramona's fault and he kinda didn't want to be a dick.

He was totally blaming it on the weird instincts.

In either case, she still basically fled his room. Which he wasn't dissappointed about.

He wasn't.

His cell vibrated and he looked down to see yet another text from Popko.

'Did you know alphas can scent mark?!'

Oh.

God, being an alpha sucked.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	3. Bubble, Bubble, Toil andIce Baths?

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

* * *

**Bubble, Bubble, Toil and... Ice Baths?**

"Seriously, Jackson?" Popko chortled as they walked to their lockers. Sometimes he missed the days when Popko was dating Ramona and annoyed her between classes.

Jackson wanted to bang his head against the metal, "No, Popko, I cannot lift a car."

"Have you tried?"

He had. But he'd sworn Tommy, the only witness to his failure, to secrecy. So it never happened.

Popko leaned against the locker next to him, eyebrow raised and hat tilted, "There was this guy on youtube…"

Jackson glared.

The internet was the worst thing ever invented!

"Not everything on the internet is true, Bobby."

Popko scowled at the use of his first name, "Dude."

"Can we please talk about something else?" Jackson swapped out his Algebra book for his American Lit one.

"Fine," Popko sighed, crossing his arms, "You hear about what happened at Lola's party last weekend?"

"No," Jackson shrugged, "Vegas, again."

Popko nodded. It wasn't like either of them was invited to said party. Exes weren't exactly high up on anyone's guest list.

"Darren The Dick made quite a scene from what I heard." Popko nodded, smirking as they headed towards lunch.

What else was new? Darren was always making a scene. He gave high school athletes everywhere a bad name.

"Lola hulked out apparently."

Jackson paused, "Lola?" She was technically an alpha, same as Darren. They'd both presented before Jackson had.

Popko nodded, "I thought Ramona would have told you." Alarm bells were going off in his head.

"Ramona?" His voice was tight, Popko raised another eyebrow.

"I don't know the whole story," Popko raised his hands in surrender, "Just that Lola kicked Darren out of her house over Ramona. The snaps were pretty hard core."

And now Jackson wished he hadn't deleted Snapchat.

When they walked into the lunchroom Jackson flinched. The smell was unreal. Worse than the food. He ignored it as they took a seat with the rest of his friends.

Well, he ignored part of it. There were only four omegas in their lunch period (so far) and two of them were at his table. Mankowski and Gene were easy enough to ignore.

Ramona was even easier to pinpoint.

She was with Lola and the royal court of popular kids, per usual. So was her scent. Totally usual. Mostly sour with the suppressant.

How the hell did Lola stand sitting next to her?

His nose wrinkled without his knowledge.

Gene's suppressant had a rotten scent and Mankowski's a rancid one, but neither was as strong or thick as the sour lemon that was Ramona.

"Dude," Popko nudged his shoulder, "What are you doing?"

Jackson shrugged, "Nothing." He'd dissect Ramona's scent later. According to google if he tried hard enough he would be able to pinpoint emotional shifts from her scent.

Popko smirked. Lips slim and cheeks wide.

"Sure, Jackson."

They returned to the weekend gossip. Jackson really hated Vegas. He missed out on everything!

Nugs had apparently gotten a tutor while he was away. A super hot one.

Darren the Dick faded from his mind. Until right after American Lit. Because Gym. It was a thing. A very annoying thing.

"Hey Fuller!"

A thing that included Darren grinning at him from across the locker room. Jackson immediately turned in the other direction. Towards his locker.

"Come On!" Darren mocked, loudly, "Don't run away!"

Jackson rolled his eyes. Like he was going to fall for that.

Darren crossed the room as Jackson pulled off his shirt to stuff it inside his locker. When Darren's hand connected with the locker door, slamming it shut, the entirety of the locker room went still.

"I hear you're shacked up with Lola's bitch."

And if everyone wasn't listening then, they were now.

Jackson turned around to face Darren. He was taller, bigger, but Jackson felt like he could compensate with rage at this point. He was pretty scrappy.

"And I hear Lola kicked your ass." Jackson grinned as Darren's fell.

The guys that had been occuping the benches nearby got up. No one wanted to get caught in the crossfire. Jackson could respect that.

"Does Lola fight all your battles?" Darren's eyes narrowed, "Or did she get the omega in the divorce?"

Jackson wasn't sure what annoyed him more - the fact that he was talking about Ramona like she was nothing or the fact that he was talking about her at all.

Both.

Definitely both.

His fingers curled into a fist as Darren kept talking - Jackson was fairly positive everything coming out of his mouth was disgusting.

Jackson felt totally justified when his fist collided with Darren's mouth. Right up till the guy's teeth scratched his knuckles.

"Fuck!" Darren roared from the floor. Jackson blinked. Darren was on the floor?

Not for long. His body collided with Jackson's and Jackson's back hit the lockers. There was a crunching sound that he hoped came from the lockers.

Jackson lifted his knee up, nailing Darren in the abdomen and then lowered it with force onto his foot. Heel first. That crunch was not from the lockers.

An hour later Jackson was sitting in the nurses office - cringing every few seconds as she cleaned out each of the cuts on his back. Thoroughly.

Who knew twisted metal could leave paper cuts? Metal cuts? Whatever.

"Mr. Johnson had to go to the hospital to have his foot set." The principle was looking at him with narrowed eyes. His mom was standing there with mouth and eyes wide.

"You broke his foot?" DJ shrieked as she looked at Jackson. He attempted to shrug. The nurse immediately tutted him, pressing an alcohol soaked cotton ball against a cut on his shoulder.

The principal sighed, "Given the circumstances the Johnsons have agreed not to press charges. There were a number of students who witness Darren's…provocative words."

DJ's eyebrows went high and her chin went low, "Words?" Here eyes turned to Jackson with a chilling look when it was explained that Jackson threw the first punch.

The drive home was quiet. Very quiet.

Jackson was not looking forward to his two week suspension. Less so when they walked through the door into a quiet house. Aunt Stephanie had taken off for some gig in San Diego that morning.

"Jackson Michael Fuller!"

He flinched at the high-pitched shriek that his mother emitted as soon as the door was closed. His stomach did a lovely somersault.

"What in Nantucket were you thinking?!"

Jackson swallowed back bile and stoof up straight. He didn't want to see his lunch again. He didn't want to sit through this lecture more than once either.

"This is exactly the sort of thing you're suppose to be avoiding!" DJ started pacing the stretch of floor between the stairs and front door.

Moving to sit down seemed like an attention grabbing action so Jackson didn't even shuffle his feet as she stood in front of his mom. Ordinarily he would at least hang his head in an attempt to look cowed by her words, but he had this headache that was bubbling up behind his forehead. No attempts were made.

"And! This is why you're spending the weekends with Joey!" DJ paused to point a finger at him, "To learn how to control these urges!"

Ok. Bubbling wasn't just a headache.

"I spend every weekend with Joey because you don't know what to do with me!" Jackson had no memory of the decision to speak, or yell! But he totally agreed with what came out of his mouth so he rolled with it.

"Jackson -"

"You didn't expect me to be an alpha, so you just foist me off on Joey rather than figure it out!" His mouth ignored the command to shut up and Jackson's fingers are tingly. "You don't even try to understand! Or ask questions!

Like. Really tingly. Like, painful burning sensation tingly that is also in his chest.

"It's not like I have any clue what's going on either!" Jackson's mouth feels dry. His mouth finally shuts itself when he starts coughing. The tingly feeling is in his throat.

His mom's face is a scrunched up as she steps closer, hand reaching for his face, "Jackson…honey, you're really red. Are you-"

Jackson blacks at after that. When he comes to his body is warm, burning up like it had during his rut. Or a really bad fever. His mind was foggy and he could just hear his mom's voice, muffled and distant.

The sight that greeted him was not anywhere in his expectations. For one, he was in the tub. With his clothes on. And surrounded by ice.

Okay. Lots of questions.

He focused on his mother's voice. She was talking to someone. It took him a second, but he recognized Kimmy's voice and…Rocki's mom.

"Thanks for coming, Gia, you're really the only alpha we know in the state." "No sweat. Deej did all the right things. My husband gets the fever every tax season." "Tom didn't, not often anyway, when I was pregnant with Jackson a few times and then once with Max…" "They're stress induced in males." "Really?" "Yup. Females don't have to worry about this particular quirk in the alpha physiology." "Well I'm glad I remembered what to do then."

Jackson blinked. Fever? Is that why he was so warm? And his head ached. And his body. And… okay, yeah fever. But why would it be triggered by stress, and why now? It wasn't like the ten previous weeks hadn't been sucky.

"His heart beat is jumping up," Rocki's mom, Gia, didn't even finish her sentence before his mom was pushing through the door.

"Jackson," her hand was on his forehead as she knelt beside him, "You've cooled down a bit, but you're still really warm."

The air smelled funny. Like singed hair. His eyes locked on Gia. It was her. She smirked.

"Kids got a good nose," Gia stepped back into the hallway, "I ain't trying to stake a claim or anything."

Oh. Right. Alpha. She was an alpha. Like stupid Darren. Or Lola. Their scents weren't quite so strong though.

Wait.

If she was an alpha. And she'd said her husband was.

Great. Were all of his ex-girlfriends (or ex-not-girlfriends) going to be alphas?

The idea of Rocki as an alpha made him shutter and he closed his eyes at the image. The world sort of fuzed out then. Just muffled voices and bad scents.

Which were blessedly absent when he woke up again. The overwarm feeling was gone too. And the ice.

"Jackson?"

He flinched at the voice. Ok. Heightened hearing was working. And extra sensitive. Jackson gulped down the bile rising in his throat. Again.

His mom whispered, "Jackson?" Her voice was still loud and vaguely muffled in his ear. As if she were screaming through cotton balls.

When he opened his eyes again Jackson was greeted first by his mother's face. Right in front of his. And then by a sweaty smell that clicked into his head as worry.

Huh. He could smell emotional shifts!

Five points for google.

"Your fever broke an hour ago," her hand pressed against his forehead, "I was getting worried."

Jackson shifted and sat up. Black spots in his vision and a faint swoosh in his head told him in no uncertain terms Not to do that again.

"Your dad never really passed out when he had these fevers," his mom was rambling, talking fast, "but Gia said it was pretty normal. Even so, I called the doctor. And boy howdy, he had nothing helpful!"

Blinking in the appearance of his room - cleaned, organized. Ok. Worry was obviously an understatement. DJ was already fretting around his desk, dusting the wood as if she hadn't already done that.

There was a sheen. And an orange smell.

Everywhere.

"How long have I been out?" Jackson scrunched up his brow as he sat back against his headboard. The feeling of being stuffed full of cotton balls was ebbing away.

DJ look at him, eyebrows drawn in, "It's almost midnight."

Oh.

"Shit." Jackson's head thumped against the wood. Also orange scented. It was kind of overwhelming.

"Language," DJ snapped her finger at him, eyesbrows high. Jackson hurumphed and slunk back down the bed.

Her voice didn't sound muffled anymore, but it was still sharp. Though he was fairly certain that was because she was still upset with him.

"Gia gave me the name of a doctor who specializes in alpha physiology," DJ wrung her hands as she came back to sit on his bed. Her hand moved to his forehead, "I only knew what was happening because-"

"Dad got them," Jackson pressed further into his pillow. He kind of missed the muffling now, "I heard that part." Her hand stilled.

She smiled nervously, "You weren't wrong…before." DJ sighed, "I don't really know what you're going through right now, or how to help."

Jackson scrunched up his eyebrows. He had a vague memory of yelling. Of a bubbly warm feeling.

"You…don't remember what you said before you fainted do you?" DJ pursed her lips.

"Nantucket," Jackson racked his brain for the last thing he remembered besides the ice. "Vegas?"

DJ grimaced, "Okay." She kissed the top of his head and stood up, "Get some rest, we'll talk in the morning." The raised eyebrows on her way out promised that they'd be talking about everything.

Great.

* * *

I was this close to making Chad Bradley the stereotypical alpha jock, but he wasn't a big enough jerk for me to justify the character assassination so I invented Darren the Dick instead.

Chad the Brad will have to play another role! Maybe! Eventually!

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	4. The Most Awkward Doctor's Visit

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

* * *

**The Most Awkward Doctor's Visit in History**

Jackson hated doctors.

There were needles and bright lights and condescension by the ton. Plus his mom nodded along to all their medical jargon and responded in kind so he never had any clue what was going on.

Dr. Ngo was worse.

He had all that, plus extra intrusive questions. In front of his mother. About sex. And masturbation.

So. So much worse.

"Alright," the short, and annoyingly fit, doctor looked down at his clipboard, "Why don't you tell me what induced the pheromone fever?"

"Pheromone…?"

"We were arguing about a fight he got into at school." DJ pipped up from the chair next to the exam table, the magazine she was pretending to read was upside down.

Dr. Ngo shook his head, "I doubt the argument caused it." DJ frowned. "Mr. Fuller?"

Jackson blinked at the focused stare. He fidgeted. Ngo was an alpha. He smelled like burnt sugar and he radiated control.

It was very annoying because Jackson felt like he had zero.

"I have no idea," Jackson shrugged, "I'm not really sure what happened at all."

"Basically, you overheated," Dr. Ngo kept eye contact with him, "You're heart rate and temperature spiked because you pheromones created an imbalance in your brain chemistry."

"That sounds…"

"Deadly?" Dr. Ngo raised an eyebrow at him, "It is." He held the clipboard to his chest, "They're usually triggered by your instincts. Or more specifically, by ignoring them. Adrenaline increases slowly, causing increased aggression and lack of impulse control."

Jackson gulped. He had a bad feeling about the way his mom had just straightened in her chair.

"If improperly treated, the adrenaline will spike for long enough and your heart will give out."

Dr. Ngo did not sugar coat.

"So," He raised his eyebrow again, "What caused the fever, Mr. Fuller?"

"I was kinda worried about…Ramona. Earlier." Jackson did not look at his mom. He could feel her stare. And his stupid blush. "It was way earlier though. At lunch."

The clipboard came back down, "Ramona is the omega that lives with you?" Ngo looked at his mother then.

"Yes," DJ's voice was sharp, like a whistle in his ear, "She's on suppressants though."

"Hmm," Ngo was looking at him again, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Jackson," that could not be good, "What does Ramona smell like to you?"

Jackson gulped, "The suppressant or her?" Ngo smirked. "What?"

"Can you smell the difference between other omegas and their suppressants?"

The answer was no. But he'd never actually tried. Mankowski and Gene were not exactly people he wanted to parse scents for.

"That a no?" Ngo raised an eyebrow, "Do their suppressants smell different?"

"Mankowski's is a sour milk smell," Jackson shrugged, "Gene's is rotting brussel sprouts."

Ngo waited. And waited. Eyebrow raised and pen poised over the clipboard.

"Ramona's is a sour lemon. It's super strong," Jackson wrinkled his nose, "I can't even smell oranges anymore without getting nauseous."

Ngo scribbled. And scribbled.

And scribbled.

Jackson really wanted to throw the clipboard at the wall.

He tighten his fingers around the edge of the exam table. It was a thick cushion. His fingers couldn't pierce it.

"Jackson and Ramona presented on the same day," DJ cut in, a heavy sweat scent giving away her concern even with her steady voice, "He was with her when she went into heat. Could that impact him in anyway?"

Ngo had laser eyes now. Double eyebrow raise.

"If something happened, yes," Ngo turned from DJ to Jackson, "Mr. Fuller?"

Laser. Eyes.

"No," Jackson shook his head, ignored his mother's scoff. Nothing Had Happened!

His grip tightened on the exam table.

"It wouldn't have to be sexual," Ngo held the clipboard to his chest, "Mere proximity, if -"

"There was some cuddling."

Jackson looked at Ngo's shoes. Shiny, black loafers. If he stared hard enough he could make out the stitching around the toe.

"Ramona kind of," Jackson bit his lip, "burrowed into my side."

Ngo made a humming noise, "Did her face come into contact with the scent glands in your neck?"

Jackson teetered for a second on the edge of lying.

"Yeah," he admitted. When Jackson glanced over his mom looked confused by the questions.

If it weren't for stupid Popko and his obsessive googling Jackson would be similarly confused.

"Then that explains the fever," Ngo sighed, "It was probably building for a while." Jackson pursed his lips. "It seemed this Ramona is marked with Jackson's scent."

His mom reacted…exactly as expected.

An acidic cherry scent spread over the room, "What?!"

Yup.

Ngo spent the next ten minutes explaining scent marking to his mother.

Which was kind of funny, because Jackson had assumed she'd know that much since alphas supposedly marked their mates. She'd been married to his dad for over a decade.

Maybe it wasn't as common as the internet led him to believe.

"I assure you Mrs. Fuller there's nothing nefarious about this," Ngo sighed, long and heavy, "It's downright understandable given the situation you just described."

Yeah. Jackson didn't really agree with that. Understandable was not the word he would chose.

Frustrating.

Annoying.

Discomforting.

All good words. All Understandable words.

"What are we suppose to do?" DJ threw her hands in the air. "Separate them?"

"Definitely not," Ngo's voice was hard. It cut through the acidic scent like it was butter.

DJ started and sat back down, "Bad idea?"

"Very." Ngo took a seat on his stool and started typing, "Jackson would likely have fevers more frequently and the effects on an omega can be more acute. If slower acting."

"What do you suggest?" DJ crossed her arms, eyebrow raised.

And the cherry scent returned.

Ngo turned to her, face flat and focused. His burnt sugar scent grew thicker, "I'd like to coordinate with the omega's specialist - her suppressant may be unnecessary in this situation."

DJ uncrossed her arms and sat back down in her chair, "I'll get the info from Kimmy today and send it over." Ngo nodded.

Jackson was fairly positive this was the most awkward doctor's visit in the history of the world.

Ngo returned to look at Jackson. His left eyebrow raised. "Now, about scent marking."

And! Now it was worse!

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	5. Jackson's Keeper

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

Wanted to write a chapter from Ramona's perspective because why not? Also, this chapter would have been WAY more awkward to write from Jackson's perspective.

* * *

**Jackson's Keeper**

Three weeks off her scent suppressant and only two people had noticed. Or, only two people had commented. Lola had said Ramona smelled worse now and Rocki had cornered her after Geometry to ask if she needed to kick Jackson's ass.

It was oddly touching.

Jackson had managed to entirely avoid the subject, at least with her, and Ramona hadn't decided if that bugged her yet. Ok, it did, but she hadn't decided if she was doing anything about it.

This was an awkward situation and Ramona was attempting to be sensitive to Jackson's feelings. He'd definitely gotten the short end of the stick post-presentation. Plus, he was still grounded for fighting at school.

"Hey, Ramona," Popko approached her lunch table.  
The other three girls glared at him, "You seen Jackson?"

Ramona arched eyebrow, "I'm not his keeper."

"Did he come to school today or not?" Popko rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms, "He missed study hall and Gene said he was MIA for history too."

There was an acidic flavour rising in her mouth, "My Uncle Jimmy dropped us off together this morning."

"Great," Popko groaned, "Ditching class. He's never gonna get ungrounded." Popko's jaw was clenched as he turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Ramona called him, which drew more than just his raised eyebrow, "Where do you think he went?" Popko shrugged and kept walking.

Ramona groaned, shoving her food away to set her head down on the table. The acid in her mouth had dropped straight to her stomach.

"I think I actually am his keeper," Ramona grumbled out. Lola patted her shoulder.

Jackson showed back up halfway through the next period. She was paying attention now. His scent was stronger now, more distinct - a development she was blaming on the marking.

She got a hall pass from her teacher for the bathroom and then rushed through mostly empty hallways. Jackson was at his locker. His forehead pressed against the door.

"Go away, Ramona," Jackson waved his hand at her without ever moving his head. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"You skipped class," Ramona hissed at him, "DJ is going to kill you!" He hmmed. Ramona stepped forward to grab his arm.

Rather than yanking on his arm, Ramona found herself pinned to the locker. Jackson held her there with a single hand on her shoulder.

"What the he-" Ramona's anger stopped on her lips. Jackson's eyes were pinpricks and accompanied by dark circles. Raccoon level dark. "Are you okay?"

His hand flexed, "Just. Go away." He left. His footsteps dragging. Ramona stayed, her back against his locker, and gasped down a steadying breath. His scent filled her lungs, pushing out the acidic burn that had spread through her whole body.

"What the fuck is going on?!" Ramona growled to herself. Her return to American History was met with a few raised eyebrows and a disgruntled shrug from their teacher. Ramona ignored them.

There was no further Jackson incidents. She didn't even see him till after dance when she passed by his room.

Jackson was lying face down on his bed, a pillow over his head. His fingers were gripping the pillow so tightly Ramona was surprised the fabric hadn't ripped. She hesitated by his door.

He shifted his head to look at her. She took an unconscious step back at the glare on his face. His pupils were blown wide now and her stomach clenched. She fled for her room.

"He's been grouchy since he got home," Max didn't knock before he strolled into her room, "He even snapped at Tommy when he tried to get him to come out of his room!"

"He can probably hear you, you know," Ramona whispered as she spun in her desk chair to face him.

Max threw his hands in the air, "So what?! He was rude first!" Max stuck his lower lip out, "He's never this horrible though, especially not to Tommy, did something happen?" His head tilted and his eyes wide, Ramona had a hard time lying.

"I don't know," Ramona bit her lip and turned back to her desk. Max scoffed. "Something happened, I think." Ramona looked back at him, "I don't know what though. He told me to go away."

"Well," Max's chin raised in the air, "At least he's being a jerk to everyone." Max strolled out of her room and slammed his bedroom door behind him.

Ramona smiled, shook her head. She glanced to the wall she shared with Jackson's room, "He's worried about you."

Jackson didn't respond. Ramona turned back to her computer. She had homework to do.

Homework that she ignored in favor of playing keeper to Jackson Fuller. What was her life?

Some quick digital interrogations had gotten her the near exact time of Jackson's departure from school: after first period, before second. She knew he'd returned halfway through fifth period.

Roughly three hours was not a lot of time to go anywhere in San Francisco, not with midday traffic. The BART didn't have the greatest of radius' and Ramona was fairly positive Jackson wouldn't take it or a bus. Lola said public transit smelled almost as bad as public restrooms, sometimes worse.

With Lola and Rocki's assistance she'd narrowed down routes and possible locations. The answer stared up at her with a clear certainty.

The Alpha Physiology Clinic. Dr. Ngo.

Wikipedia and WebMD were her next stops. She read symptom lists and lists of alpha-specific diseases - there were an alarming amount.

'Ding!'

Messenger popped up on the side of her screen. Jackson's smiling face looking down at her from his minatured profile picture.

Stop it

Ramona gulped.

What?!

She straightened in her chair. If Jackson didn't want her snooping he should just tell her what was wrong. She was a Gibbler damn it! She had a reputation to uphold!

Whatever is freaking you out

…what?

You smelled worried  
And nervous  
It's giving me a headache

Ramona narrowed her eyes at the screen. The chair spun as she sprung from the room. Jackson jumped when she slammed his door behind her.

"Are you kidding me?!" Ramona seethed as she shoved at the lump of teenage boy in Jackson's bed. He stumbled a bit, flinching away from her touch and falling onto the floor.

She paced as she cursed him out. Slipping in and out of Spanish as she ran out of insults. Her heart rate was up and her breathing ragged. Jackson didn't make a sound.

"Are you going to speak or just sit there?!"

When Ramona rounded the corner she expected to find him still lying on the floor. The same rude glower on his face as earlier. Nope.

Jackson was sitting back against the side of his bed, head pressed against the mattress as he grimaced. Ramina sniffed - the air was thick, an acidy scent that turned her stomach.

"Are you-"

He growled. An actual, out-and-out growl. Her stomach turned again. That time not from nausea.

She looked him over - his body was trembling, his shoulders shook, and he was damp with sweat. Her eyes halted on his lap. His jeans were undone and his hand pressed down against an erection thankfully covered by Star Wars boxers.

But the air stunk. He wasn't aroused. Ramona would recognize that - she'd lost the morning race to the shower enough times since she'd presented - and the air was currently rancid. Her throat felt raw as bile rose up from her stomach.

"Jackson..." Ramona knelt beside him, her voice low. His back arched, a mewling sound escaped his throat. She moved closer. Jackson's head turned to face her.

She reached out a hand to touch him. His skin was ice cold as her palm pressed against his neck. Jackson curled around her then. His head buried against her collarbone. Ramona racked her fingers through his hair - the short, brown locks were damp.

Jackson's hands moved to her hips, fingers digging in. His breath puffed against the skin of her throat in short, ragged intervals. He was still trembling as Ramona began to rub his back with her other hand.

They stayed like that a while. Jackson curled around her, her arms wrapped around him. It was the oppositve of every alpha-omega interection she'd seen on television. But her stomach settled when she held him.

Ramona knew the second whatever was happening was over - Jackson whimpered and his grip tightened. She felt him press his head against her chest, hard, for a bried moment before Jackson scooted away swiftly. He didn't look at her or it as he zipped and buttoned his jeans.

"Sorry," Jackson cleared his throat, a whispy voice as he stared at his wall. Ramona looked him over: he wasn't shaking. More importantly the room didn't smell like some horrendously strong house-cleaner.

"What -"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That's nice," Ramano grinned as she stood up, moved to stand in front of him, "But irrelevant."

Jackson's face was red - just finished her Abuela's tamales red. Well, he wasn't cold anymore.

"Speak, Jackson," Ramona took a step closer, towering over him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, "I know you went to see the doctor today."

His eyes flashed. Ramona's stomach did yet another turn - knotting itself well. She ignored it by kicking his foot.

"Don't laugh." Jackson blew out a breath and ruffled the top of his hair. Ramona stood straighter, crossed her arms, waited.

"Well?" Ramona raised an eyebrow when he didn't start talking.

"I can knot."

Ramona blinked. Her arms dropped to her side. Knotting had been on one of the lists. It was a rare ailment - nonexistant in recessive alphas.

"But you're not from an alpha line?" Ramona puckered her lips. Jackson raised his eyebrow at her. "What? You think only you can google?"

"Ngo said its the Katsopolis line," Jackson drew one of his knees to his chest. He kept looking at the floor, "Thinks the combo of the female alpha line and my dad's recessive genes might be messing with my body chemistry."

This had not been in the state approved health class they'd taken. Knotting had appeared zero times in the textbook. She'd only heard of it, pre-wiki search, in fanfiction. Teen Wolf fanfics mostly.

"What exactly does the…the knot…do?" Ramona stumbled over her words as her feet flexed and stretched beneath her. Jackson watched the fidgeting with a furrow brow.

"You mean besides stretch the base of my dick? Painfully and slowly? In increasing intervals?"

Ramona blushed. She mindlessly started to flit from foot to foot, "I..I don't really know…anything about it."

"I didn't either," Jackson grumbled, face twisting, "I figured it was just some weird side effect from the rut or the scent marking or…some weird alpha thing Joey forgot to mention!"

Jackson was standing then. Ramona stepped out of his way as he began to pace the room. Hands flying out expressively as he talked.

"But then it started happening all the time! And jacking off does nothing, absolutely useless! In what world does masturbation not fix all dick-related issues?

"Mine apparently! And when I finally get a chance to ask Ngo about it without my mom listening in, he hands me a pamphlet and asks to do a DNA history test or whatever because aparently this is 'Interesting!'

"Interesting! Trying fucking annoying!

Ramona watched his face wrinkle into a scowl. When he paused she stepped into his space. Jackson froze.

"Why did I help?" Ramona put her hands on her hips and watched Jackson sputter. His mouth opened and closed. Opened and closed.

He reached around her to rifle through his back pack. A red pamphlet, creased and wrinkled, was shoved into her hand.

Jackson sat on the edge of his desk, crossing and uncrossing his legs, while she read the short informational blurbs.

In bullet points at the bottom of one of the trifold pages was a list of know 'Assistive Aids.' Sandwhiched between types of sex toys and some essential oil recommendations was 'the presence and scent of an omega bonded to you.'

"Oh," Ramona looked up at him. Jackson was staring at his wall again. "We should work out a system for when you need me then." Jackson's head whipped around and his eyes were wide. She started laughing.

* * *

The concept of knotting as a purely sexual thing seemed odd to me, and it always seemed like something that would make puberty very awkward. So. Hope you enjoyed my take on the trope!

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	6. Pack Man

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

* * *

**Pack Man**

An Upside had finally been found!

Three miles he'd been carrying Tommy, and Max's many purchases from Preppies R Us, and Jackson was not even the slightest bit winded.

Being an alpha Had to have some perks, apparently.

"So, we're agreed?" Max was looking at him over his half-eaten ice cream cone. His eyes were shrewd - narrow little slits of suspicion that were honestly kind of adorable.

Not that he'd admit that. Ever. In this or the next life.

"I swear," Jackson nodded his head and suppressed an eye roll, "My alpha dramatics will never again come between our brotherly bond."

Those words had just come out of his mouth. He would never be cool again.

"Do you forgive me for being extra jerk-like now?" Jackson asked, not at all tired or annoyed. No-ooo. It wasn't like he'd taken Max shopping at his favorite store. For two hours. And bought him ice cream. Before and after.

Oh wait. He had.

Tommy had been much easier - he'd been perfectly happy to forgive Jackson any and all transgressions after the trip to McDonalds.

The ice cream Had solidified his return to Epic Older Brother Status. So Max's emotional manipulation was good for something.

"Hmmm." Max side-eyed him as they turned up the hill onto their street.

Jackson narrowed his eyes on him, "Max…" There was a line. Jackson wasn't aware it was there this morning, but they were certainly stepping on it now.

Max's face split into a large toothy grin. "You're forgiven!" He chirped. Then he started laughing, "I'm kind of surprised you went for the second ice cream honestly." Max licked around the edge of his double chocolate, "You must feel really bad."

"Eh." Jackson didn't shrug - Tommy was sound asleep on his shoulder - but he did bob his head to the side. "It's been a rough couple of months for me and I was definitely a sucky older brother for most of it. Figure I should make it up to you, now things are starting to level out."

"Is being an alpha really that bad?" Max raised an eyebrow at him, one eye wider than the other, "I mean, alphas are usually pretty awesome on television."

Television sit-coms were the bane of Jackson's existence.

Not internet level. But. Close.

"It's fucking weird," Jackson said, ignoring Max's gasp. "I barely have time to figure one thing out before my body flips another switch."

Max launched into a lecture on language - because he was Max. Jackson ignored him - because he was Not Max. And Tommy stretched in his sleep, yawned, and then face planted onto Jackson's shoulder blade.

Really. It was so obvious what was coming.

The switch. He'd literally just mentioned it. And still. When the cherry scent hit his nose before they got to the front door, Jackson froze.

Usually when he smelled cherries in his mother's scent she was annoyed or angry, but then it was acidic. Now, it was almost tart - like it had mixed with a Smartie to make a new candy.

A gummy candy, cause it smelled kinda gross and rubbery too. Alpha senses had really ruined Red Vines…

"Why did you stop?" Max was looking down at him from the top step. Jackson quickly climbed the stairs and pushed his brother behind him.

The new scent had Jackson on edge. More so because he couldn't identify the emotional shift the scent represented either.

There was a nagging bell in the back of his head that reminded him of The Incident. In a bad way. It had been the stupid feeling that had pushed him into Ramona's room.

"Stay behind me," Jackson's voice was gruffer than he meant it to be when he spoke. There were two other scents on the other side of the door.

Betas.

Their scents had hidden beneath his mother's. And there were so many betas scents around he couldn't distinguish them. But they were new. Different.

Max remained, shockingly, silent as Jackson contemplated picking his other brother up and leaving. He'd protest then, of course.

Plus, the cherry scent was definitely strengthening.

Jackson opened the door and took two steps into the living room. Max, being Max, didn't listen and came up right beside him. He, however, did not recognize the two people sitting on the couch.

"Boys!" DJ hopped up from the armchair by the fireplace. She was wringing her hands. The smile was too wide.

Jackson glared at the Fullers, who slowly rose up from the couch. They were older than they'd been at the funeral - definitely grayer and wrinklier.

"What are they doing here?"

DJ visibly started at his voice. It had sounded odd to Jackson too - flatter. Even Max had paused in his step down from the doorway.

"Your grandparents were in the area," DJ's laugh was practically hysterical to his ear, "They stopped in to say hello."

Jackson's gaze swept to them and he very much enjoyed the half step back they both took. He wasn't 12 anymore. And maybe he hated lots of aspects of being an alpha, but the intimidation factor was not one of them.

DJ cleared her throat, "Jackson-"

"Did they apologize?" He looked back at his mom. She ducked her head, smile tight. That was a no.

The cherry scent was ebbing away. The familiar palmy sweat was taking hold. Worry. Much better than whatever that ick had been.

"Then I don't want them here." Jackson took the two small steps down from the door and then tugged Max after him as he walked into the kitchen.

Max made a stilted attempt to argue, but they were already at the table by the time he actually spoke.

"Why are you being so weird again?!"

Jackson looked at Max as he set the shopping bags down. He kept Tommy. His hold only a little tighter than before.

"Because they're jerks and I want them to leave."

Max looked back at the kitchen door. Raised whispers could be heard. Jackson, however, could make out the words.

His spine straightened.

"Upstairs," Jackson nodded his head towards the kitchen stairs and Max agreed. He was still sour-faced, but he still had the second ice cream in hand so Jackson refused to feel guilty.

Not that the jangling noise in his head was leaving much room for other thoughts.

Jackson put Tommy on his bed and then gave Max very swift instructions to stay in their room until he got back. Whatever face he was making seemed to convince his very ornery little brother.

Awesome. One task down.

The jangling did not abate.

In the hallway Jackson headed for the main stairs. He gripped the railing tightly as he looked down on the living room. The three adults were arguing.

"You've poisoned them against us!" "How dare you keep our only grandchildren away us!"

The cherry scent was edging under his nostrils and the jangling had gone full on church bell in his head. Their words now mixed with their words from the funeral.

They'd made his mother cry…

"Get out!" Jackson's voice cut through the room. DJ started up at him, shock in her eyes. There were no tears. This time.

His grandparents - well, it wasn't shock on their faces.

Jackson's grip on the rail tightened as he shook his head - there was a pressure building. His ears felt stuffed up all of a sudden.

"Jackson, honey…"

His eyes narrowed on his grandmother. His vision sharpen on their faces. "I said get out!" The rail split in his hand. Wood bit into his skin, the coppery scent of blood wafted upwards.

It was soothing. The pressure seemed to lessen.

Though that might have been more because the Fullers were running out the door. Yeah. That was probably more the reason.

"Jackson." DJ had her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised expectantly. He shrugged.

The stupid bells had stopped. He shook his hand out to dislodge some of the wood that had embedded itself in his palm. It kinda stung.

"Come down here so I can look at your hand," DJ blew a breath out and went to get the First Aid kit. She spent the next hour digging splinters out of his palm.

Jackson had absolutely no idea why she wasn't yelling at him. The railing was pretty definitely going to need a visit from a carpenter. Possibly replacing.

"So…" Jackson whistled, looking at the railing rather than his hand. Cause blood, ick. "Am I grounded?"

DJ hummed, pulled another splinter out. "I don't think so."

Wait. What?

"You were trying to protect us," DJ shrugged, dabbed at his hand with an alcohol wipe. He winced. "That's probably the one alpha thing I understand."

Protective…alpha…thing.

Jackson groaned, "What thing is this?" She laughed.

His own mother. Wow.

"Thanks," Jackson stuck his bottom lip out in a pout as DJ started to wrap his hand. A metric ton of gauze appeared to be stuck between his palm and the bandage.

"It's an instinct," DJ placed a hand on his shoulder and suddenly they were looking eye to eye. And she was smiling. "Your dad use to say it felt like his head might actually explode from the pressure if he didn't do something to help."

Oh. The bells.

DJ ruffled his hair, "Though, I don't think most alphas have as broad a definition for pack as he did."

"Pack?" Jackson scrunched up his face, "Are we in Teen Wolf now? I thought I walked into the Fuller house, not the Hale's?"

And now his mother was rolling her eyes at him. Was nothing sacred?

"I don't know what the technical term would be," DJ ruffled his hair as she stood up, "But I think pack is an apt description." She winked. "How else do you explain Max staying upstairs this whole time?"

Jackson snapped up, "Shit."

"Language!" DJ called after him as Jackson rushed up the stairs to let a now-fuming Max out of his room. "And you're working off the cost for the railing!"

She huffed, turning to look at her bloodied medical supplies scattered over her previously clean floor.

"Just when I thought I might never have to put up with alpha commands ever again…" DJ muttered to herself as she started to clean up.

Jackson paused, door knob in hand, as her words penetrated his brain. Commands?

He opened the door and was immediately barraged by a trademark Max Fuller rant. Tommy was watching from his bed, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, grinning.

Commands would be pretty useful actually.

"And then you just left us in here for over an hour! And hour, Jackson! No food, no water, no explanation."

WikiHow had to have a tutorial.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	7. Omega Shifts and ProCon Lists

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

* * *

**Omega Shifts and Pro/Con Lists**

Augmented senses.

\- Can totally smell people from blocks away. No one can sneak up on him - Pro

…

\- He could not turn said smelling off. And loud noises were pretty common in the city. - Con

...

Okay, did those cancel out?

There was also his increased athleticism. Definitely a Pro. Though it was mostly an adrenal response, so…if he couldn't do it all the time should he count it?

Alpha commands were adrenaline based too. Which was a total bummer - what was the fun of being able to order his family around if he could only do it when he thought there was danger.

Jackson decided those all cancelled out. The whole Pack thing his mother had mentioned was confusing. He'd made the mistake of mentioning it to Popko.

His phone dinged again.

Apparently pack members can develop extra-sensory instincts for one another.

What the hell did that even mean?! Jackson texted that too, because honestly, even if it was annoying…Popko was pretty helpful.

Well, betas don't develop it very often… So, for you, probably nothing?  
Except for Ramona? Idk. Does the scent marker make her a pack member?

Jackson rolled his eyes.

You know just as much as me, Popko.

That was a lie. He hadn't told Popko about the knotting - cause just no - and he certainly hadn't told him about the arrangement he had with Ramona.

Dudes did not discuss their dicks or chicks unless the two overlapped. Or so Jackson had been told. And technically, the two were not overlapping in the manner insinuated.

I'd guess, yes. So does that make it a pro or a con?

Neither.

They're theoretical at this point, why would I put them on the list?

Not that it was an actual list. Probably? Popko hadn't said if he was writing all this down. Evaluating all the alpha stuff was helpful though.

The fevers are a con though, obviously.

?Thought you just had the one?

Jackson glared at his ceiling.

One time too many. It was horrible.

Popko didn't comment. He did manage to find six other supposed alpha characteristics that made Jackson cringe. He was getting off lucky apparently…

-.-.-

Jackson startled awake. He blinked rapidly and was already in the hallway by the time his brain had caught up to the panic thrumming through his veins.

A tinkling of bells in the back of his head pushed him towards Ramona's door. He could hear her heart beat, now that he was paying attention. It was fast.

"Ramona?" He pitched his voice low as he knocked. No response came. Jackson closed his eyes to focus his hearing on Ramona's room. Max's murmurs and Tommy's light snores fell to the background.

A simpering whine echoed through his head and the door was closed behind him before he'd made the decision to open it. He really needed to pay more attention. Later.

Curled up on her bed Ramona had her eyes pinched close and her jaw clenched. Jackson sniffed the air. No sweet scent, no heat. Probably should've checked that before he entered, but whatever.

He knelt beside her, knee sinking into her mattress. There was a copper scent. Blood?

"Ramona? What's wrong?" Jackson palmed her forehead, but given his body temper ran hotter now he wasn't sure what to make of her warm skin. Another win for the con pile.

Her eyes fluttered, "Hurts." Her voice cracked as she spoke. The ringing in Jackson's head was going full on church bell again. He swallowed and sat down on the bed.

Ramona's hands were pressed against her stomach, so Jackson pushed his own. There was a stiffness to the muscles there. He pressed harder. Ramona groaned. Suddenly he had Ramona herself curled into his chest.

Great. Cause this wasn't awkward enough.

Her hands were sweaty. One was pressing down on his own, focusing the pressure on a specific jumble of muscles that he'd failed to identify on his biology quiz last month. The other hand was tightly gripped in his pajama shirt, the spot now vaguely damp.

"Ramona?" Jackson cringed at the croak in his voice. Why couldn't it ever be steady in these situations?!

Why did these situations keep happening anyway?

Ramona looked up at him, her face was wet and her eyes bloodshot. "I don't know what's happening," she sobbed into his shoulder. Her eyes suddenly squeezed shut and her hand squeezed his even harder against her abdomen.

"I've got you," Jackson wrapped his free arm around Ramona. He had absolutely zero idea what to do, but his weird alpha instincts had got him this far so he wasn't about to ignore them now.

Pack instincts…pro. Damn it.

-.-.-

"What's going on?"

Jackson's eyes flew open to see Max standing beside Ramona's bed. Shit. So much for no one being able to sneak up on him.

"Uh…"Jackson attempted to sit up, but Ramona was still very much curled against him and she had a death grip on his shirt. He did manage to get his other hand free.

The backside of said hand was bright red and had lovely little crescents all over it covered in dried blood. Ramona had some seriously sharp nails.

"There was this…thing…" Jackson attempted to explain without talking loudly, or truthfully, or actually disentangling himself.

Max's arms remained crossed. He had a pinched expression and his foot started tapping.

"An…alpha thing." Or omega, technically, but he didn't actually know anything. And he certainly wasn't telling Max he was up half the night pressing a hand up against Ramona's uterus.

The information from biology class had filtered in sometime around 3am.

Max continued to stand there, foot tapping.

"How much to keep quiet?" Jackson sighed, skipped straight to the bribe.

"40$ and you do my chores for a month."

That was…surprisingly not bad. "Deal."

Max raised a brow, "Woah, this must be serious, you didn't even try to talk me down." Jackson looked down at Ramona. The sound of her whimpering was still fresh in his memory.

"Close the door on your way out, huh?" Jackson plopped his head, the only part he'd managed to move, back onto Ramona's pillow. She groaned in her sleep as Max was leaving. He paused in the doorway as Jackson slipped his hand back onto her abdomen to apply pressure.

Max paused, "Should I…get someone? Or something?"

"I have no idea."

-.-.-

As precedent dictated, they spoke of nothing once Ramona was awake. They quietly disentangled themselves. As precedent had been set by Jackson's knots and he usually fell asleep afterwards, that was the end of Jackson's plan.

So…he just sat at her desk while Ramona flitted around her room. She went from her closet to her desk to her dresser to her bookshelf back to her closet and then finally she stopped in the center of her room.

"Why did you come into my room last night?" Ramona's head tilted as she turned to look at him. All of her hair cascaded down one side of her face. Jackson swallowed.

He shrugged, "Instinct." Ramona raised a brow. Jackson looked at her feet. She had purple nail polish.

"Jackson…" She took a step closer and Jackson stood up. Suddenly he was looking into her eyes again. They weren't bloodshot, there was no tears.

Just big, and brown, and looking at him with a glint of suspicion. His stomach flipped. Or it felt like it did. Jackson was fairly positive that it couldn't actually do that.

Though, obviously, his understanding of biology was flawed.

"Do you know what happened last night?" Jackson looked at a spot over her shoulder to avoid her eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ear. Twice.

At least he wasn't the only one awkward.

"I, uh, I have a theory," Ramona balanced back on her heels before rocking forward. His eyes flickered to her face. Hers was focused on her hands.

Currently wringing in front of her stomach. Jackson looked at them too. Her fingers kept twisting against each other, bending back at joints in what he was certain had to be painful.

"You ever heard of an omega shift?" Ramona cleared her throat, rocked back on her heels again.

"No." Forward. "What is it?" Back.

Ramona tucked her hair back again, though none of it had escaped yet. "Sort of like a regular menstrual cycle, but uh…different."

"Worse?" Jackson guessed. He looked away from her hands, back up to her face. Her eyes were still lowered. "Ramona?"

"They happen when an omega has a mate." Ramona looked up at him then, throug her lashes. Hia stomach flipped again.

Ramona's face was red, so were her toes, which Jackson was now looked at instead of her face. She'd dug her crooked dance toes into the carpet, gripping it just as well as if they were her fingers.

The look of her eyes - a tarnish copper color with the overhead light shining on her face, wide and trembling, as if she were afraid.

Maybe she was.

If alphas triggered the shift, he was the alpha. She had his scent mixed with her own. He could probably order her around if the situation were right.

Ramona was afraid of him... his stomach lurched and bike rose in his throat.

"I'm gonna go." Jackson fled. Legit, fled. Right out of the room. He hid in the bathroom rather than his bedroom.

It had a lock.

He turned the water on and sat on the lip of the tub. His fingers drummed against the porcelain.

This was not good. He did not like this.

Ramona couldn't be afraid him. That was just… no.

This didn't feel like an alpha thing. This was a we-live-in-the-same-house thing. This was a she's-his-friend thing. This was a her-eyes-are-really-pretty thing.

Wait. What? Oh no. No no no. No. Just no.

Jackson swore as he slide back into the shower's spray, clothes still on. The water was cold and he closed his eyes.

Why was this his life? Why couldn't he be beta? Why couldn't Ramona be one?! Yup! That was it.

This was entirely Ramona's fault, her and her…omega scent or … shift or the pack whatever. Yeah. Jackson swallowed, hard, and banged his head against the tile.

Jackson could not be expected to handle two adolescent crisis at the same time. It had to be an alpha thing. Had to be. Cause otherwise, he was totally fucked.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	8. The Tanner Clan Cometh

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

An awkward doctor's visit - because no other sort exist - and the beginning of the Tanner family holidays!

* * *

**The Tanner Clan Cometh**

Dr. Ngo was a narc.

A remorseless narc who was currently explaining how knots worked to his mother. His mother!

"So, outside of a sexual context, it's essentially a long-term erection." His mother had just used the word erection in his presence.

His mother!

Why couldn't Dr. Ngo's office come with a hole to swallow him up?

Jackson attempted to tune them out. They'd been discussing this for half an hour now and really, there's only so much embarrassment he can take. He really didn't care about how alpha lines were theorized to start or what knots signified in a sociocultural context.

"Is there anyway we could stop having this conversation?" Jackson raised his voice above theirs as he stared up at the ceiling from the exam table. The paper crinkled when he sat up, "Literally any other part of my anatomy at this point."

His mom at least had the decency to blush and look a little guilty. Dr. Ngo just shrugged, "I assume you've been able to find a way to deal with the knots so they're no longer interfering with your life?"

"Sure." Jackson let the room descend into an awkward silence as Ngo waited for him to elaborate.

There was a zero percent chance of Jackson telling either of them that Ramona had been holding him through the knots. He certainly wasn't going to admit he'd stopped asking for her help when he realized he was developing romantically adjacent feelings. Or that he thought she might be afraid of him. The whole Ramona thing was a no-fly zone entirely as far as he was concerned.

"Did you want to know what sex toy I bought or something?" Jackson drawled out when Ngo continued to look at him expectantly. His mother was looking pointedly at her magazine now.

Ha! Revenge!

"That won't be necessary," Dr. Ngo sounded unconvinced as he wrote something down.

Technically, it wasn't a lie. He had bought some weird specially designed sex toy at a skeevy alpha shop. And it did work. It just wasn't as comforting as Ramona running her fingers through his hair.

"Is there anything else we need to discuss today?"

What's an omega shift?

Jackson did not ask that question, though he certainly thought it. Loudly.

Ngo turned to DJ, "Would you give us a minute, Ms. Fuller? I'd like to ask Jackson some questions he'd probably be more comfortable answering without you in the room."

His mother raised a brow. Ngo had asked some seriously intrusive questions with her in the room before. She left though.

Ngo looked at Jackson now. The burnt sugar scent that Jackson associated with the other alpha turned up a few degrees.

"What?" Jackson maintained eye contact. He did a small happy dance internally when Ngo blinked first. He'd been an alpha four months now, maybe he was finally getting the hang of it.

"Tell me how you've been dealing with the knots, Jackson." Ngo set the clipboard down. Jackson stared at the thing. "You've faced massive amounts of changes these last few months and you'll likely face more before you see me again."

This was true. The holidays were coming, school was already out for winter break. He wouldn't see the doc till the new year.

"Jackson?"

"Ramona was helping me."

Ngo raised an eyebrow at Jackson's confession.

"She'd just hold me and it would go away."

The eyebrow lowered and Ngo nodded, "The scentmarking is a type of bonding. While I don't recommend -"

"She doesn't anymore." Jackson's eyes dropped to Ngo's shoes. The loafers were just as shiny as they'd been on his first visit. "Or, I don't ask her anymore anyway."

Ngo actually took a seat, "That's probably a smart decision. Strengthening your bond with an omega you're not mated to can be fraught with complications."

"Like an omega shift?" Jackson glanced back up in time to see Ngo's eyes widened. "That's bad right? The internet made it sound like some creepy breeding thing."

"That's not wholly accurate," Ngo pursed his lips. "Omega shifts are a heightened period of fertilization outside of a heat. Mated omegas often have to control them to avoid pregnancy." He raised a brow at Jackson.

Jackson's whole body warmed, "Yeah, no. Not an issue."

"If Ramona is experiencing them-" "Just the one." "-then she needs to confer with her doctor about a regiment."

"Even if I've stopped asking for her help?"

Ngo sighed, heavily, and leaned back in his chair, "I'm not an expert in omegas, Mr. Fuller." Jackson blinked and Ngo quickly produced a few more pamphlets for him. "If your bond continues to strengthen or you have any complications, call my office and we'll schedule something immediately."

Jackson raised an eyebrow. Ngo's eyes bored into his. "Okay."

-.-.-

"Happy Holidays!" Uncle Jesse's voice carried up from the living room as the man burst into the house. Grandpa and Aunt Becky's voice echoed his.

Jackson spun his desk chair around with a grin. It took less than two strides to leave his room, effectively cutting Max off as his younger brothers stampeded towards the visitors.

Tommy was the first downstairs and Max gave Jackson a sour look as the kindergartner monopolized the attention for a few minutes.

"Hey bud!" Jessie enveloped Jackson into a hug, swaying slightly as a soothing musky scent swirled around him. Motor oil and cedar, it was a wholly unexpected attack on his nostrils. But not unwelcome.

"How ya holdin' up?" Becky grinned at him, arms full of a sleeping Pamela, as Jessie released his hold. Jessie kept one arm swung over Jackson's shoulder.

Jackson shrugged, fidgeted a bit, "Not bad." The adults all traded looks and Jackson tried not to be embarrassed. He found it much easier as Uncle Jessie's scent continued to zip around like a lazy fog.

"So." The door opened with a sudden burst. A blonde with heels like skyscrapers and a layered fringe stepped down from the landing. "I hear I'm not the only alpha in the fam now." A smile spread across the woman's face as a burst of squeals signalled the oncoming attack.

"Michelle!" A shewolf howl followed them as DJ, Stephanie, and Kimmy sprang from the kitchen to envelop their youngest member in a group glomp that produced further howls and some giggling. Michelle met them with open arms and her own, slightly off-key, howl.

Jackson blinked as he watched it all unfold.

"It's been way too long since I've been home." Michelle's smile widened even as her eyes moved downward. She leaned into the hug that Danny pulled her into as soon as the she-wolf pack had released her. Jackson met her eyes over his shoulder. "Way too long."

A scent pushed through Jessie's as Michelle moved to hug him next. It was faint, a light timber of burning firewood and… salt? It was the weakest alpha scent he'd ever encountered. And the only one that didn't have his shoulders tensing.

"You must be Tommy." Michelle crouched down to bring herself eye level with the youngest Fuller. Tommy's fist tightened in Jackson's jeans as she held out a hand. "Last I saw you, you were a reddish tinged slug in a blue bundle."

Tommy giggled and shook her hand slowly. Michelle smiled again, her lips trembled. Jackson watched her straighten up in her heels unassisted - he was fairly positive this counted as witchcraft - and slapped her thighs.

"Alright, where're the Gladstones? We have a holiday to celebrate!" As Michelle raised her arms to lead a cheer, which the Tanner Clan jumped on like…well…themselves, Jackson caught the scent of salt again.

Stronger.

And mixed with the unfortunately familiar scent of cherries.

Michelle caught his eye again. Her lips twitched downward for just a second before she shook herself. The grin she sported widened.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	9. Avoidance is an Alpha's Worst Friend

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

Jackson figures out what's going on with Michelle and attempts to Not spill the beans.

A/N: Since I know a lot of people are avoiding sick-fics right now due to Covid, I will warn you now this chapter discusses a serious illness. It's not covid-related at all, but ye be warned.

Also, angst, which I'm aware is not standard fare for this fic, so let me know what you think.

* * *

**Avoidance is an Alpha's Worst Friend**

"What's up, J-Money?" Michelle called out from her spot in the backyard. Jackson cringed and walked out from the side of the house where he'd been attempting to surreptitiously parse Michelle's scent.

"Guess I can't hide from another alpha?" Jackson chuckled nervously as he walked over.

Michelle was sitting against the back wall, back against the wood, butt in the grass. Between her fingers was a cigarette he was fairly positive contained something stronger than nicotine too. His mother would be appalled by the entire situation.

Michelle shrugged, lips quirking up,"I was the youngest and the only non-beta, Jackson, no one did as much eavesdropping as me." She gestured with her cigarette before returning it to her lips, "I still had Joey in the house to help me figure shit out at least. How've you been coping?"

"Joey wasn't particularly informative," Jackson drawled. Michelle chuckled as Jackson plopped down into the grass beside her. "And according to the doc, I'm a unique case with 'interesting' blood chemistry."

Jackson felt no remorse about the finger quotes. Dr. Ngo had used that word at least a dozen times while reading his blood test results. Jackson still had no idea what they'd said, but his pheromone levels still hadn't level out.

"He thinks I still have a few months before all my alpha characteristics make themselves known." Jackson rolled his shoulders back.

The prospect of further impulses and weird sensory shit was not something Jackson had put on his Christmas list.

Michelle snorted, "If it makes you feel better, female alphas can present with new characteristics pretty much forever."

"Nope," Jackson wrinkled his nose and shook his head, "I already knew it sucked to be a girl, but just…no."

"It's a hormone thing," Michelle knocked her shoulder with him and took another drag on her cigarette. "Any change in them can trigger a change in pheromones too."

Jackson squinted at her, "I thought pheromones were a hormone?" He shook his head, groaned, "I really gotta start paying more attention in biology."

When Michelle laughed her entire body lurched forward. That's when he caught the scent of salt again. It was hazy, and mild. So was…everything, actually.

"Wait…" Jackson blinked and sniffed the air. Michelle chuckled again. She blew out a puff of smoke and the salty smell was completely masked. "What is that?"

"This is a trick some alphas I met in college showed me,"

Michelle held the cigarette out for Jackson to smell. He didn't get anything from it, just a smokey ash scent. No nicotine, no marijuana.

"You smoke it long enough, you can almost pass for a beta," Michelle winked and smiled, "With betas anyway."

"What's the salty smell?" Jackson asked. Michelle's smile dropped. "You and my mom smell enough alike that I can figure out everything else, but-"

"Don't parse my scent."

Michelle's tone was flat and her words sharp. Jackson flinched at the sound of them. His mouth clamped shut.

With a shake of her head, Michelle blew out a breath, "It's not important. I just want to spend Christmas with the family, all the laughs and smiles, okay?"

Jackson bit his tongue to stop from asking another question. Michelle's eyes turned to focus on him. There was a haze over the blue irises, an almost milky overlay that made them look unnaturally grey.

"I mean it, Jackson," Michelle's intonation told him more than the bells in his head that she was trying to command him. She forced her brows lower and her words firmer, "No questions, Jackson. No parsing my scent."

A bit of ash crumbled and dropped from the tip of the cigarette. Jackson looked at it. The cigarette was not the source of the salty smell.

"You're sick." Jackson said the words as the popped into his head. Hus eyes were glued to the cigarette, "You're trying to hide it."

Michelle huffed. Her head fell back against the fence, "No. Not sick." Jackson raised a brow. Michelle laughed, it broke and splintered into a near sob before she whipped at her eyes.

"Oh." Jackson swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. The cherry scent was back. Michelle tried to swallow back her tears. She really did smell too much like his mom. "I'm sorry."

Jackson knew it was wrong as he agreed not to say anything. Neither Tanners nor Gibblers did well with secrets and his house was full of both.

He considered telling Ramona, and then swiftly vetoed.

Because she was a Gibbler. And Gibblers can't keep their mouths shut. Not for any other reason.

Popko hadn't answered his text either. So…

Jackson sat in his room, biting his knuckles, with bells ringing in the back of his head.

"Might as well prep the ice bath now," Jackson's eyes scrunched closed and he rolled backwards onto his bed. His body swerved to the side.

His mother walked by his door just as his feet hit the ground.

"Okay…" Jackson let out a breath and gripped his knees, "…I definitely got the Tanner lying ability then."

And that meant he had none.

Jackson listened at his bedroom door for ten minutes until the coast was clear. Then he slipped down the stairs and out the front door.

From the end of the block Jackson registered the sounds and smells of the Gladstones as they pulled up to his house. If Jackson had figured it out, then surely Joey would too.

"If Joey spills the secret, then I kept my promise," Jackson gnawed on his bottom lip as he walked up a hill.

Paying attention to where he was going was not high on his list, if Jackson was being honest. Which, honesty was sort of his problem right now. So. Yeah.

Do you smell like salt? ?!

Popko's text took Jackson by surprise. He furrowed his brow at his phone and thumbed a quick reply.

Not that I know of? Why?

Now, Popko responded promptly. Where was that an hour ago?

Don't scare me like that dude!  
Salt smells in alphas are the scent of death.

Jackson flinched as the bells in the back of his head pushed to the forefront again. It wasn't like he hadn't already guessed that though. Not that Michelle had affirmed his suspicions.

Do you know what it means specifically?

Google, dude. Learn to use it.

Jackson rolled his eyes at his phone. It dinged with another message before he could respond though. This one came with a link to some specialized WebMD style site for alphas.

Why was Popko so much better at finding alpha stuff than him? If any skill should have come default with being an alpha…

The webpage was detailed. With lots of medical jargon and graphic pictures. Really, all of it was unnecessary. Popko's text had summarized it perfectly.

Alpha-specific cancer in the scent glands.

A church nearby started ringing its bell. Jackson was so preoccupied with the ones bashing together in his skull he didn't even notice.

He also didn't notice the sidewalk coming up and tripped. Epicly. Onto his face. Because, ya know, the day needed to be worse.

"God, I hate life." Jackson groaned into his arm, which had kindly kept his face from hitting the concrete directly.

When he looked up, Jackson had to blink a few times to be sure he hadn't actually hit his head a few times. But, nope, the cemetery was still there.

There was even a hearse pulling into the parking lot of the church next door. Mourners. Flowers. All of that.

This would be freaky anyway, but the pit in Jackson's stomach told him exactly which cemetery this was. And he hadn't been here since he was 12.

"Really, really fucking hate my life," Jackson clambered to his feet as he stared down what he was fairly positive would rate as his least favorite place in the world for the rest of his life.

Totally justified.

His father had been lowered into the ground, his grandparents had yelled, his mother had cried. Textbook ripping apart of a family really.

It *was* the worst place in the world. Filled with his very worst memories.

So Jackson walked into the cemetery. Because apparently he was a masochist.

The ringing in his head stopped though, so obviously he could blame all of this on alpha impulses if need be. That was also what he assumed helped him find the gravestone he'd never visited before.

*Thomas Michael Fuller*

The name stared back at him and Jackson swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. The pit in his stomach grew.

"This is really all your fault," Jackson told the stone. He spoke without any regard for who might hear him.

There was nobody nearby after all.

"You're the alpha," Jackson pointed an accusatory finger, "And I can read between the lines, okay. You being an alpha is why you became a firefighter, it's why you're dead."

Pacing did not help. Jackson wiped at his eyes and found himself rambling even more. The words coming even swifter than his steps.

"And if you weren't dead, then maybe I wouldn't have to deal with any of this! You'd have figured out what was wrong with Aunt Michelle. Or you'd have figured out I knew!"

Jackson paused, scoffing to himself as he ran a hand through his hair. His voice lowered to a whisper and Jackson lowered himself to the ground.

"You'd have explained all of this alpha stuff better than Joey too, right? I wouldn't have to rely on Popko's googling skills and some doctor who, let's be honest, is probably writing some weird medical paper on me at this point."

That wasn't really fair to Dr. Ngo. He was helpful. Jackson knew that. It didn't make him feel any less like a lab rat when Dr. Ngo had ordered a second set of blood tests.

"Everything would be better if you were here." Jackson drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself.

If there's no one to see you cry, than it doesn't count.

"This is not where I expected to find you." Michelle stretched out her legs as she sat beside the gravestone. She leaned sideways against it, one arm slung over the top.

Jackson wasn't sure what graveside etiquette looked like, but he was positive Michelle was violating it.

"And, just for the record, your dad sucked at this alpha stuff too," Michelle chuckled, forehead wrinkling, "Worse actually. He didn't know any of the terminology when I met him. And…" Michelle patted the grave with one hand, "…I'm fairly positive he went to his grave without knowing he'd been scent-marking your mother for the better part of 15 years."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Jackson chose to keep looking at his father's name rather than at Michelle. It was harder not to notice the makeup caked on beneath her eyes now that he knew why it was there.

Michelle sighed, scratched the back of her head, "Okay. Look, I told them."

That turned Jackson's head.

"When you didn't show up to greet Joey, Ramona said you left, and…well, you know your mother," Michelle tilted her chin down to level Jackson with a look.

"So…you broke under pressure," Jackson smirked at her, earning himself an eyeroll.

Michelle scoffed, "Did not." She crossed her arms and leaned her head back to look up, "I just didn't feel right making you keep a secret like that. You've got enough to deal with."

"This is true," Jackson nodded, pursing his lips as he watched Michelle stare into the sun as if it wasn't burning her eyes.

"It you didn't have such a sharp nose, I'd have totally gotten out of here without having to worry anyone," Michelle's lips puckered out and Jackson snorted.

Michelle lowered her gaze to glare at Jackson. He just smiled at her.

"Mom says family has a right to worry," he shrugged. "Something about sharing burdens." Michelle rolled her eyes.

Jackson felt kinda bad now, since he'd done the same thing when his mom had said it. Huh. Maybe he should work on his karma?

"Wait…" Jackson narrowed his eyes, "If you told them you have cancer, how are you here?"

"I believe the maneuver is known as a 'bomber run,'" Michelle said carefully, eyes scrunched up and lips pulled down.

Jackson groaned, "So you dropped the bomb and ran."

Great. Somehow, Jackson still ended up feeling guilty. That seemed unfair. He hadn't even been there!

"Yeah, it's a favorite of mine," Michelle said before taking a deep breath through her nose. She nodded towards the grave, "Feel better now? Talking to your dad?"

"Not really," Jackson reread the epitaph that proclaimed his father as loving, loyal, and brave.

Michelle pointed off towards where a small cluster of black dots was congregated, "My mom is buried somewhere over there. I visited once, before I moved. Didn't help me much either."

Jackson followed her finger. He watched one of the black dots walk forward. He could smell the grief - not overly dissimilar from rain - and the soil - earthy and bitter.

It left a bad taste in his mouth and Jackson focused back on Michelle and his father, "So… he was really just as flustered by all this alpha stuff as me?" Michelle snorted.

"Kid," Michelle drawled, lowering her brow as she shook her head, "He was absolutely hopeless. And I met him as an adult."

The pit in Jackson's stomach seemed to shrink, filling in a bit as Michelle recounted some of the stories his mother probably didn't want him to hear.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	10. A Demonstration

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

Jackson *was* appreciating being not in trouble for a moment, and then... well. Impulse control has never been his strong suit.

* * *

**A Demonstration**

His mother was yelling downstairs. There was a heavy helping of the disappointed tone and a lot of not-swear words happening.

But it wasn't aimed at him!

Jackson appreciated this silver lining more than was probably appropriate considering this was meant to be the season of goodwill. And, you know, the whole cancer thing.

His eyes flickered to his door. Ramona was once more bringing her hand up to knock before lowering it again. It was the third time in the last twenty minutes, Jackson only had so much willpower.

"Why do so many of our conversations start with you hovering outside my door?" Jackson called out to her. She opened his door with a not-so-subtle glare.

Jackson ignored the narrowed eyes in favor of continuing to bask in this rare moment of not being the one in trouble.

"So…your alpha aunt is dying and while everyone else is freaking out downstairs, you're up here, doing…what?" Ramona's hands went to her hips as she stood over him. Her hair hung forward, dangling just above his nose.

The not-in-trouble feeling was suddenly gone. A smokey pepper scent drifted down to circle his head. Jackson groaned and sat up in his bed, "I *was* enjoying not being the one in trouble for a second."

Ramona's eyebrows rose and one of her hands rose with it for her to stick a finger in his face, "Your selfishness is transparent." Jackson rolled his eyes, but Ramona clapped her hand over his mouth before he could comment, "I can literally smell how upset you are, Jackson, and my nose isn't as good as yours."

That might have been a dig. In fact, Jackson was positive that it was, somehow. But Ramona followed it up by sitting down next to him and Jackson was far too busy keeping his heart rate from spiking to worry about possible insults.

It wasn't working, but attempts were being made.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ramona leaned closer, eyes wide and earnest. His heart rate was Officially outside his control.

Jackson recognized that he was about to do something possibly stupid. It was not an unfamiliar feeling. He was distracted enough by Ramona's scent, her brown eyes, her hand on his shoulder...

Really, when had a bad feeling ever stopped him being stupid before.

Ramona's lips were soft. And moist. And moving against his own with a surprising lack of hesitation. Her tongue moved over his lips in slow, methodical motion.

Jackson chose not to overthink the experience. He nipped at her bottom lip, pulling at it gently. Ramona's fingers tugged at his hair. Jackson slipped his tongue between her lips. When he ran it over the ridges on the top of her mouth, Ramona moaned.

A warmth was spreading over his entire body and Jackson found it increasingly less difficult to shut his brain up. All critical thinking skills had ground to a halt.

Then Ramona moved closer, her arms wrapped around his head as her body pressed against his. Jackson's hands a few on her hips. He feels his fingers twitch and tighten as he falls backwards, bringing Ramona with him.

It's the mewling sound she starts to make that forces Jackson's mind to remember the circumstances of… whatever the hell he and Ramona were to each other.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Jackson stuttered as he stepped away from his bed. His back hits the wall much quicker than anticipated and he feels something crack behind.

Ramona is still on the bed. Her chest is heaving and her lips are red as she pushes up into a sitting position. Jackson tried very hard not to focus on either of those facts.

Jackson failed, which was more than obvious to both of them.

"I, uh," Ramona stood up, placing the bed and most of the room between them. She cleared her throat, "I think that more than demonstrates my point."

The sweet smell that Jackson is terrified of from Ramona's heat is rising in the air. Softer, lighter. It's not an overwhelming haze, but Jackson groans when it reaches his nostrils.

There's nothing for him to grip on the wall. Jackson really wishes he had something to hold on to, something to ground himself with.

Was that something Joey told him to do? At that moment, Jackson's world was roughly 5 ft tall and staring at him with pink cheeks.

Ramona's heartbeat pounded in his ears. She took a breath and Jackson heard the slight hitch as the scents of the room filtered in to her own nose.

"You should go," Jackson pursed his lips. His jaw clicked as he grit his teeth. Ramona didn't move. Her fingers clutched at the loose fabric of her shirt.

"We should discuss -"

Jackson shakes his head, eyes closed. It doesn't register that he orders her out until he hears the snap of his door closing.

The slamming of Ramona's door assured him that the alpha command was going to haunt him for longer than the kiss.

"Just throw out the whole day," Jackson plopped face first back onto his bed. Ramona's scent lingered on his pillow - a musky pepper-like smell with a hint of honey.

The fact that he could identify the specifics better than he could a month ago was disconcerting. Jackson flipped over, nose scrunched up.

Damn it. He'd probably need to wash his sheets.

A she-wolf howl echoed up from downstairs. Well, that was probably a good sign for Michelle at least.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	11. The Real Question

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

Jackson is not eavesdropping... but the conversation is about him so it wouldn't be wrong even if he were.

* * *

**The Real Question  
**

Jackson wasn't eavesdropping.

"And you're sure that's what you smelled?" Danny's voice floated up the stairs from the kitchen through a vent beside which Jackson stood listening to the conversation with a small amount of concentration.

Okay…so, he was kind of eavesdropping.

In his defense, they were talking about him, so he totally had a right to do it.

"Oh yeah!" Jesse snorted. There was some shuffling, some banging pans, and what Jackson thought might be an antacid related curse. "It's more potent now, ever since Michelle brought him back the other day."

"Yeah…" Joey drawled out, his words half-sigh, "We probably should have considered that he might be missing his dad with all this stuff. I mean, I didn't get along well with mine at his age, but I don't know how I would've handled my alpha development without him."

"Pam always said the same thing about her mother," Danny agreed, "Michelle had Becky at least." All three men went quite for a moment and Jackson scowled at the wall.

He was handling all this presentation stuff pretty damn well, thank you very much. He'd only had the one fever and the one fight, there was no way they could blame the Fuller visit and all this Michelle drama on the alpha stuff either.

Even pre-presentation Jackson would have wanted to kick his other grandparents out. The alpha command just made it easier was all.

"DJ says he's been coping okay," Jesse pipped up, voice forceful, "And him smelling like burnt peppers isn't that worrying, just means he's on edge."

Yeah! You tell 'em Uncle Jesse! Jackson was fine. He was just stressed, that was totally understandable!

Joey chuckled, "Seriously Jesse? If it were just me, I'd agree with you, but you're an omega remember?"

"No, really?!" Jesse snapped. Jackson smirked, picturing the eye roll perfectly. "I'd forgotten my own designation there for a minute, Joey, thank you."

"I just mean that alphas *usually* smell bitter to other alphas." Joey huffed, "Aren't we suppose to smell like sunshine and rainbows for omegas?"

Jesse made an exaggerated choking noise, "You wish!" Jackson heard a towel snap before a chorus of laughs filtered up through the vent.

Laughter always echoed off the metal longer than the words. There was probably some poetic reason for that, but it really just meant Jackson had to strain harder to hear the next bit.

"If you can both smell it though, maybe we should talk to DJ about it?" Danny spoke in a hushed sort of whisper and Jackson wrinkled his nose at his grandfather's attempt at subtlety. Very inconvenient.

"It could just be the extra alphas around," Joey said with a hopeful bounce in his voice. "Me, Becky, Michelle. He's use to this being an almost exclusively beta house ya know."

Jackson didn't need to hear them to know that Uncle Jesse and his grandfather were both giving Joey a disbelieving look. He even had to agree with the sentiment.

Not that he'd admit that.

Ramona's presence was only distracting when it was…well…very present. She was in her room now, probably asleep like the rest of the house, and he was only vaguely aware of her breathing pattern and her heart rate and the way her annoyance was giving her scent a more acidic smell and…

Okay. Yeah. Maybe he was a little overaware of Ramona. At all times. It was just because she was an omega, and they had that scent bond thing.

Although… he had zero idea what Uncle Jesse's heart rate was, even as he listened to him tease Joey about his obliviousness.

And Popko's research said that scent marking could be a platonic thing. If he wanted, Jackson could use it to keep track of his brothers too.

Ramona's scent was still lacquered in that honey-like sweetness that made Jackson sweat. He rubbed a hand absently over his neck, felt the heat from his own body.

Two days on from that impulsive kiss, this was the third night he'd woken up sticky with her scent clouding his head.

He'd washed his sheets four times. There was zero chance it had lingered through all of that detergent.

"The real question…" Jesse's voice caught Jackson's attention again, "…is whether this is an alpha issue or just a teenager issue."

Jackson would love to know the answer to that, yeah. He had a sneaking suspicion the two were not completely unrelated though.

"His alpha scent is strong and lingering," Joey said. His voice rang through the vent clearly, "Either way, he's working himself up. It's only a matter of time till he rages. And that's specifically an alpha problem."

Wait... rages? Jackson knew alphas could get aggressive - it was a favored stereotype for a reason - but no one had said a thing about rages.

Jackson checked his phone. It was 4am. Google first, Popko later then.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	12. Pheromone Party

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

Lola's throwing another party and this time Jackson is invited for...reasons. It does not end as Ramona expected it to.

* * *

**Pheromone Party  
**

Jackson stared at the message on his phone, frozen in the hallway. Tommy knocked him as the kindergartner rushed towards the kitchen stairs.

"What're you looking at?" Max peaked around Jackson's arm and then immediately wrinkled his nose at the screen, "Who'd invite *you* to a party?!"

"Lola apparently?" Jackson's forehead wrinkled, "Which, I actually agree with you here, is very odd."

Odd. Crazy. Both words worked. Either way, Jackson was suspicious.

Lola hadn't invited him to a party since middle school when they dated for like, half a second. He texted Popko in case he'd accidentally landed in a parallel universe in which Lola had revoked her no-exes rule.

Popko: Dude! You have to go! Lola's parties are epic!

_Okay. Parallel universe debunked._

"Hey, do you know why Lola would invite me to one of her parties?" Jackson asked Ramona as he and Max finally followed their brother to the kitchen.

Jackson pretended that the dozen or so adults in the kitchen weren't watching the five second interaction with laser focus.

"She invited all the non-jerk alphas," Ramona shrugged, took a sip of her juice, "I wouldn't expect a regular invitation if I were you."

"Cool." Jackson moved to sit at the counter, away from Ramona, and text Popko. He'd found about... oh, a *thousand* references to alpha rage online. He needed Popko's guidance.

Seriously. Why didn't they teach Googling in school? It'd be way more helpful than history!

_Popko: It's a misnomer. It's not necessarily a 'rage.'_

Jackson rolled his eyes. "That's so dumb…" Jackson muttered to himself as he texted back.

"What's dumb?" Stephanie asked from the other side of the counter. She was standing in front of the stove, warming up formula, bouncing slightly to keep Danni asleep in her arms.

It almost passed as nonchalant, but her eyes were a little too wide and her brows a little too high. Jackson checked, his mom and grandfather were both eavesdropping from the laundry nook.

Subtle. Very subtle.

"Something having a name that doesn't accurately describe what it is," Jackson could do subtle too. He'd grown up during the peak of vague posting after all.

Stephanie squinted at him, but Jackson's phone vibrated and he returned to Popko. And actively ignoring every nosy adult in the room.

That just happened to include every adult in the room. Not his problem.

_Popko: Basically, it's just another alpha impulse that can be triggered by adrenaline and stress._

Jackson scowled at his phone as he checked out a few of the links Popko sent him. He was really started to wonder how his best friend had these at the ready so often…

Rage was apparently not totally inaccurate. Phrases like 'increased agitation' and 'territorial aggression' came up a few times. And it all came back to the same thing as the fever did - ignoring stress, suppressing impulses.

_Jackson: So…when I'm upset, I either get a fever that can kill me…or I fly into a rage? …Is that offer to switch designations still on the table?_

_Popko: lol. Hell no._  
_Popko: Think of it this way, you have something in common with the hulk._

That…was actually a fun thought.

_Popko: So, are you gonna go to Lola's party?_

Jackson rolled his eyes. He typed quickly, shaking his head at his screen.

_Jackson: No. Why would I do that?_

Popko's response was swift.

_Popko: So I can live vicariously, duh._

"So…" Jackson looked up at his mother, lips pursed slightly, "What are the chances of you letting me *go* to Lola's party?"

DJ snorted and opened the fridge for the juice, "Do I actually need to answer that?" She set the pitcher on the counter with an amused laugh.

"You're ruining Popko's chance to live vicariously here, I can't be held responsible for what your decision may do to his fragile psychological state."

His mother did not look at all impressed by his very reasonable argument. Jackson typed out the negative response to Popko.

"Weren't you all just going on about Jackson needing to relax?" Michelle's voice was half muffled by the food in her mouth. "There was even a bit about socializing with other alphas, I definitely remember that."

DJ glared across the kitchen at Michelle, who continued eating at the table with a shrug. Stephanie was hiding her laughter in Danni's shoulder.

"He's still grounded." DJ moved her hands to her hips.

Michelle shrugged, "Socialization is important for young alphas."

Jackson did not know who or what she was quoting, but his mother's face went stormy and Stephanie couldn't suppress her giggles this time.

Even Grandpa Danny snorted!

"Fine." DJ threw her hands in the air and Jackson texted Popko.

_Jackson: Your vicarious experience has been parentally approved, congratulations!_

Jackson grinned when Popko responded.

_Popko: Sweet! Now go re-download snapchat!_

-.-.-

"The point of parties is to socialize."

Jackson looked up from his spot in a corner of Lola's living room to Rocki. He did not move his legs from their spot hung over the side of an armchair.

He hadn't smelt her coming. There was some sort of haze in the air that made it difficult for him to pinpoint scents as they moved around the room.

"Seriously," Rocki raised a brow, scoffed, and then shoved his legs away to sit on the armrest. "This is why all your friends are betas and omegas."

"I'm fine with that." Jackson frowned.

This party was not at all what Jackson was expecting when he'd driven him and Ramona to Lola's house. For one, there was no illicit alcohol.

Not that he'd drink it, of course. But it was generally a staple of high school parties and he was kind of disappointed at the lack of drunken antics.

For two…well, there was no need for drunken antics because the entire party was alphas and omegas. Throw a bunch of them together and the hijinks are just as amusing.

"You smell more like yourself at least," Rocki said as she leaned back against the wall.

Jackson arched an eyebrow and looked away from the alpha attempting to flirt with Gene a few feet away.

Rocki rolled her eyes again, "Alphas' scents change with emotional shifts, just like everyone else Jackson. It doesn't take a decent nose to know you've been spiraling down an emotional vortex the last few months."

"I think vortex is overstating."

The look Rocki pinned on him silenced Jackson. He went back to watching the mingling and attempted flirting of his peers.

A pepper-scent cut through the haze around his head and drifted into Jackson's focus. His attention zeroed in on Ramona as she walked into the room with Lola.

"Can I ask…" Jackson cut himself off before he finished. He bit his bottom lip. Rocki knocked his leg with her foot. He took a breath, "What does Ramona smell like to you?"

"Oven-roasted peppers, a hint of cinnamon, very odd combo."

Jackson blinked. That was quick…and, essentially, what she smelled like to him as well. He looked up at Rocki, head tilted back and words half-formed in his mouth.

"Wow." Rocki glanced at him, shook her head, "You don't even know the scent structure, do you?"

Given he'd never heard that term before in his life… Jackson had to go with no, no he did not know the scent structure. Assuming it wasn't another misnomer, he could probably take a guess though.

"Why don't we just assume I know nothing?" Jackson offered with a sarcastic smile.

"Business as usual, got it," Rocki nodded and then pointed towards Ramona, "She, like every omega on the planet, smells vaguely like a specific food. At least to alphas. Supposedly omegas smell vaguely acidic or rotten to other omegas."

Jackson hummed, "So, like they smell on their suppressants?"

Rocki turned slowly to look at Jackson, eyes narrowed, "You can smell an omega's suppressant?"

"Ye-es..." Jackson said slowly, leaning away from Rocki slightly as she glared at him, "You can't?"

"No." Rocki huffed, "My mother can, but I didn't inherit the superior sense of smell."

Jackson chuckled nervously, "At least you can't smell the school bathrooms as well as I can, right?"

Rocki nodded sharply, "Anyway." Her lips were still twisted into a snarl, "The scent structure explains the flip from alpha to omega noses. What smells good to an alpha will smell bad to an omega."

"Gotcha." Jackson clicked his teeth, "So what do alphas smell like to omegas than? Whats the opposite of burnt and bitter?"

"Warm and toasty?" Rocki guessed with a smirk. "Alpha scents are more variable apparently. My mom says it depends on your lineage, what sort of alpha line you come from or something."

Jackson snorted. Great. Yet another think that made him a weird alpha.

"Wait…" Jackson narrowed his eyes on Rocki. He sniffed the air. Burnt marshmallows. "You don't smell like your mom?"

Rocki hit his arm, "I have two alpha parents, idiot." She huffed again, "My dad smells like burning chocolate."

Jackson didn't have to ask how a female alpha came from a male alpha line. He had paid *some* attention to Dr. Ngo's ramblings. Double alpha pairing could cause a gender divergence.

Did that make Rocki almost as abnormal as him?

He decided against asking. However…

"Does that mean you smell like a s'mores to omegas?"

Rocki hit him again. "I hate you," she grumbled once she was once more comfortably perched on the arm rest.

"No you don't," Jackson teased. He did keep his head on the other armrest though. Just in case. Across the room Ramona giggling at something one of the other alphas on the football team said.

Jackson wrinkled his nose.

"You smell like burnt pie," Rocki cut in, looking between Jackson and the other alpha with a raised brow, "Just for the record."

"What kind of pie?" Jackson tried to latch on to the distraction and push Ramona from his mind. "Cherry?"

Rocki's gaze snapped to him, "How'd you know that?"

"My mom and her sisters all smell like cherries, especially if they're feeling any sort of strong emotion." Jackson shrugged, and turned so his back now rested against the armrest. He was facing Rocki now, even as his attention was pulled across the room. "And you said scents were lineage-based right?"

Rocki looked impressed for all of five seconds before she shoved his head, "Dude, your scent is literally becoming more disgusting by the second, stop it."

Jesse and Joey's description of his scent popped into his head again then. Burnt peppers was not at all related to burnt pie.

"What'd you mean earlier when you said I smelled more like myself?" Jackson leaned forward, arms on his knees. "How drastically is my scent changing?"

Rocki shifted, almost a fidget even! Jackson stared at her face until she cringed, "Alright!"

Jackson grinned. Success!

"You start smelling like peppers when you're freaking about Ramona," Rocki admitted with an eye roll. "It's literally the grossest combo I can think of."

Jackson huffed and fell back against the armrest. It groaned in protest.

"It isn't just you," Rocki offered with a half-hearted hand gesture in the omega's direction, "The cinnamon in Ramona's scent gets stronger when she's stressing about you too."

Wait.

What?

Popko's synopsis of scent marking floated through his mind. Omega scents took on part of their alpha's smell.

The cinnamon was his scent. In Ramona's scent.

For literally everyone to smell.

"And there's the pepper!" Rocki's feet dropped to the floor. She patted Jackson on the shoulder, "Sorry. Can't take it." She walked away before Jackson could even work himself into a proper panic.

The haziness blocking scents circled his head. Any panic ebbed away all on its own as he sunk deeper into the chair. His legs slipped over the spot Rocki had vacated.

Lavender. That was the scent hovering in the air, coating every other smell. It was thick, but a little off too.

Jackson's eyes flicked to the diffusers around the room. Smart. If his scent was hazy, so was everyone else's. Probablg prevented fights or something.

Not that Jackson wanted to fight anyone.

Certainly not the alpha chatting up Ramona across the room.

While she smelled of his scent.

Nope. He was fine.

He angled his head a bit so his face was directly in a diffuser's path.

A little caution never hurt anybody.

-.-.-

"And then I tackled the dude!"

Ramona did not know American football. She knew Jackson played, and had supposedly introduced her to this guy once when some of the team had come by after practice.

Or so Bryce had told her.

He'd started out a semi-decent conversationalist. His smile was even kinda cute and he had fluffy hair.

Unfortunately, that was the end of his positive traits and Ramona was growing more uncomfortable by the second.

"I should really get back to Lola now," Ramona tried a quick smile and a hair flip. It did not help her escape.

The alpha grabbed her wrist, "Hey! My story's not over." He squeezed and Ramona flinched. "Let me finish."

Boy howdy did she not want to let him finish. Ramona yanked on her wrist. His grip didn't budge. She grit her teeth, "Let me go."

Bryce smirked at her, a taunting little smile that she wanted to slap off his face.

So she did. As hard as she could

The slap reverbersted off the walls and brought the attention of the entire room.

"Let. Me. Go." Ramano enunciated each word. His grip tightened and she was unsurprided by the snarl that he aimed at her. There was a bright red hand mark on his face.

Ramona did not cower at the Bryce's anger. Her chin rose in defiance and she yanked again on her wrist. It still didn't budge.

That was the moment Ramona's nose registered Jackson's scent. The diffusers Lola had around the room effectively kept him hidden until Jackson was standing directly behind her.

"Let go, Bryce." A shiver ran down her spine at the chill in Jackson's voice. It was cold, monotonous. Ramona's cheeks warmed at the sound and she took a step backwards so her back was against Jackson's chest.

Bryce was the same size as Jackson, a little wider, a little beefier. And he certainly had a bruising grip.

Ramona flinched again as she tried to pull her wrist away for a third time. Jackson's hand shot out to Bryce's wrist and in a blink she was free.

"What the hell, Fuller?!" Jackson bent the other alpha's wrist back at an angle and Bryce went to his knees. Jackson stood over him, face blank and eyes narrowed to slits.

The entire room was quiet, all eyes on the two alphas.

Jackson blocked her from everyone else's view and Ramona didn't wonder if that was on purpose or not as she rubber at her wrist. A yellow and red bruise crafted a perfect braclet over her wrist bone.

It would be purple in a few hours, tops.

Ramona shifted to Jackson's side. Bryce was clawing at Jackson's hand and snapping curse words, half of them colorful insults Ramona had heard slung at her father growing up.

There was no spark to Jackson's eyes, just a cold and flat determination. Ramona moved closer, running a hand over his arm.

His eyes flickered from Bryce's face to hers.

"I'm fine," Ramona kept eye contact and ignored the sudden stab of pain through her abdominal muscles.

Jackson dropped Bryce's wrist. The other alpha craddled it to his chest and crumpled to the floor. It was already bruised a dark shade of purple.

Lola appeared with a thunderous face so Ramona did the most logical thing she could think of. She dragged Jackson into the empty office off the living room.

In hindsight... that probably hadn't been her brain thinking.

But Jackson's eyes were still focused on her. The pupils were dilating rapidlh and a crisp, almost bread-like scent filled her nostrils. Her chest was pressed up against his arm too.

She had no chance. Really.

"Let me see your wrist," Jackson's voice cracked and his eyes flickered down. The chill was gone from his voice. A slippery warmth replaced it, slipping down her skin like a thick syrup.

Ramona raised her hand and Jackson's fingers slid over her wrist. Feather like touches made pain shoot through the small bones delicately assembled below yellowing skin.

"Fucking asshole," Jackson growled. Ramona gasped and the imaginary syrup coating her body lit up like gasoline meeting a match when Jackson's eyes snapped up to hers.

Jackson's lips were chapped and cracked. The roughness tickled as they moved against hers. Ramona curled her fingers into his hair and pushed Jackson around like a puppet until he backed himself into one of the high backed chairs Lola's father kept in the room.

Everything was warm, too warm. Jackson's hands were like icicles running over her skin. She shivered, writhing against him, provoking loud moans that only served to egg her on.

"Ramona! Stop!"

Lola's voice was like a bucket of ice. Ramona's head ripped away from Jackson's. His eyes fluttered open. They were hazy, unfocused, with pupils dilated to the point that his eyes could probably pass for black in that moment.

"The pheremones in the air, remember?" Lola kept a few feet of distance. A hand underneath her nose. Ramona glanced at her and then back at Jackson. He blinked sluggishly. "Remember, you wanted to help him calm down?"

"Yeah," Ramona let out a breath, her chest heaved. The air around her still felt like fire. "Yeah, I remember."

Lola sighed in relief, "He's really susceptible to your scent right now." Her hands lowered to her sides. "You can't just…" Lola trailed off and then just gestured towards them.

Ramona looked down at their position. She was in his lap. Jackson's head lulled to the side as she rose up on to her knees. He groaned, eyes fluttering closed.

"I need to get him home," Ramona got off of Jackson, breaths still heavy. He groaned again, but otherwise remained still. Ramona shook her head, "This was a really bad idea."

"No shit," Rocki said from the doorway. She was holding one hand up to her nose as well, "You reek right now, Gibbler."

A nagging feeling in the back of her head, and an ache growing in her abdomen, told Ramona that was not a good sign. At all.

"Can you get him to the car?" Ramona looked at Rocki with wide eyes, trembling. She watched Rocki's throat bob once before she nodded.

It was fine. She just had to drive them back. It wasn't far. She could make that.

Jackson protested in mumbled sentences and a particularly low whine, but Rocki manged to shove him into the passenger seat while Ramona splashed as much cold water as she could on to her face.

The heat did not abate.

"You sure you're good to drive?" Lola sniffed the air lightly, brows raised. She glanced at Jackson and the car, "Tight quarters might not go well."

"I'll just roll down the windows?" Ramona smiled nervously and shrugged before ducking into the driver's seat of Jackson's crappy car.

It smelled of him. Heavily.

She glanced at the booster seat in the back and tried to focus on the faint scents of Tommy and Max that lingered.

That got her halfway there. Then she really did have to open the windows. Jackson shivered beside her. He blinked rapidly, eyes never focusing fully.

"What's going on?" Jackson murmured. He shifted forward, head dropping forward. Ramona squeezed the steering wheel as her eyes landed on the scent gland now swollen at the base of his neck.

"Just…" Ramona cleared her throat and pushed her foot down harder on the gas, "…just shut up right now."

Jackson's head fell back against the seat. He nodded, eyes closing slowly, "Okay."

Ramona bit her lip. The metallic taste in her mouth distracted her from the twisting in her abdomen.

When the car screeched to a stop outside the Fuller house, Ramona wasted no time in yelling loudly for help, "Uncle Jimmy!"

The beta appeared, with entourage in tow unfortunately.

"Jackson's gonna need help getting upstairs," Ramona told her uncle as he approached the car.

"Got it," Jimmy pulled the passenger door open and lifted Jackson up bridal style.

In any other situation Ramona would have found the picture of Jackson Fuller being carried up the steps with his arms and legs dangling down like a rag doll absolutely hilarious. Instagram worthy even.

"What happened?!" "Did something happen?"

This situation, unfortunately, included their mothers.

"You took him to a damn pheromone party didn't you?" Michelle's voice cut through the worried clucking of two generations of Tanners. Everyone quieted.

Ramona swallowed and then nodded tightly. Michelle had sounded equal parts amused and pissed, which probably meant she knew exactly what had happened.

"Uncle Jesse," Michelle looked pointedly at the only adult omega in the crowd of worried parental units, "You might want to take Ramona to Fernando's house until he gets back."

Jesse opened her door with a flourish, "You okay kid?" Her grip on the steering wheel was making her knuckles white. He peeled her fingers off it one at a time, "You've got a long night ahead of you."

Yeah. Yup. Very long. She sure as hell hadn't enjoyed her first heat. And this one was early. By a lot.

"It's gonna be worse isn't it?" Ramona's voice croaked as Jesse eased her out of the car. She stumbled and he pulled her up, one arm wrapping around her shoulders.

Jesse patted her arm, and nodded. "Yes."

Great.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!

A/N: I continue to hate how I have to format text messages on this website...


	13. Heat Burn

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

DJ looks after Jackson while he's under the influence of pheromones and Jesse helps Kimmy deal with Ramona's heat. No one has a good night.

* * *

**Heat Burn  
**

DJ worried her lip as she entered Jackson's room. Jimmy had laid out her sixteen year old on his bed and his limbs were splayed out across his comforter at weird angles.

"He's completely out of it," Jimmy told her. His forehead creased in worry as he looked at Jackson, "I don't know what knocked him out, but it's pretty dang effective."

"Excess pheromones can make alphas compliant if they're dosed enough," Michelle's brow wrinkled in thought as she walked in behind them.

Jimmy's eyes went wide, "Pheromones?"

"Oh, yeah," Michelle shrugged, "You get the right combination, you can turn the most aggressive alpha into a total teddy bear."

Jimmy mouthed 'wow' to himself as Michelle walked past him. She circled Jackson's bed. Sniffing the air a few times.

"I smell lavender," Michelle gave them a thumbs up, "The only pheromones that I know blend well with that tend to make alphas docile, a touch…amorous, and, according to my sources, a little too honest."

DJ scoffed, eyes narrowed, "Your sources?!" Her hands flew into the air before coming down to slap against her hips, "I just got a call from Gia telling me Jackson nearly broke a guy's wrist for, and I quote, 'not letting Ramona go fast enough!'"

Jimmy took DJ's angry, hushed voice as his signal to leave the room. Michelle just shrugged at her, arms folded, "I'm sure there was a good reason."

Jackson groaned from his bed, bringing both sisters' gaze downward. "He bruised her wrist," Jackson murmured, head lulling to the side. DJ straightened and Jackson squirmed, "He wouldn't let her go when she asked."

"Oh." DJ bit her lip and Michelle grinned widely.

"Should have broken the wrist then, ya ask me," Michelle commented. DJ glared at her and then swiftly shooed her little sister from the room. Michelle giggled - well, cackled - the whole way.

The bed sunk slightly as DJ kneeled on the mattress. She ran a hand through Jackson's hair, "How're you feeling?"

"Foggy." Jackson smacked his lips, eyes still closed, "Horny."

DJ cleared her throat, "Well… Michelle made it sound like that's not…shocking." And the fact that he'd said it *to her* probably confirmed the whole 'honesty' thing aw well. Darn it.

"I heard," Jackson reached for one of his pillows and tucked it beneath his head. DJ smiled and took a seat at the head of his bed. Jackson curled himself up near her knee.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" DJ asked as she ran a hand over Jackson's shoulder. He hummed and then in a further example of his pheromone-induced honesty…he told her everything.

It was not what DJ had expected to hear, at all.

Ramona helping him with his knots. Him helping her with an omega shift. Those were bad enough.

The intricacies of Ramona's scent? Peppers and spices and cinnamon and the lemon-tartness of her suppressant, the oozy sweet scent that kinda reminded him of honey when her heat had started.

It was enough to drive anyone mad.

By the time he got to the recent events, DJ was frozen in her spot. Mouth gaping and eyes wides. And a little nauseous.

"Pretty sure my resction to the pheromones are what triggered her heat," Jackson sighed, completely unaware of the internal freak out currently raging in his mother's head due to that statement. "But I don't know really know it works."

Right. DJ really needed to find a book on alphas. Surely there was an idiot's guide at the least. Pheromones. Why hadn't she thought to tell him about pheromones?!

"I bet Popko knows," Jackson started fumbling for his phone in his pockets. His shoulder knocked her knee and DJ was jostled from her panic.

"Ask him later," DJ grabbed for the phone as it slid easily from his fingers. The last thing she needed was to add Popko to this situation.

Jackson huffed, but settled quietly.

DJ sighed. His screen showed over a dozen notifications, "You sure are popular tonight?"

"Words probably spread to the rest of the team by now," Jackson mumbled and turned over. DJ watched his eyes flutter before focusing on the window. "Bryce has always been a whiny asshole."

"Language." DJ chided reflexively. Her hand moved to tap Jackson's shoulder. He moved quicker than her though.

DJ sat up straight when Jackson was suddenly leaning against the wall beside his window. His brow furrowed, "She smells scared."

"Well, I've never been in heat, but I imagine it's pretty terrifying." DJ walked around Jackson's bed, her fingers fiddling together as she took the few steps necessary to stand beside her son.

From the window the Gibbler house was visible. The blinds were closed in all of the bedrooms facing them, but Jackson's eyes were fixed on the one DJ knew was designated as Ramona's.

Fernando had also added a massive filter to the vent system and supposedly scent-proof windows when he and Jimmy upgraded the house. Based on Jackson's reaction, DJ would have to tell him they hadn't worked.

"Jackson?" DJ skimmed her fingers over Jackson's forehead. His gaze shifted to her. His eyes were a bit foggy, his pupils dilated massively, but she couldn't smell anything off.

She couldn't smell anything at all actually…

And even betas can smell an alpha when they're standing right next to them.

"How do you feel right now?" DJ moved her hand to his back.

Jackson blinked several times before squinting at her, "I don't know." His voice was monotonous and his body was practically collapsed against the wall. "Weird."

DJ nodded and grasped his arm, "Why don't we get you back into bed?" She attempted to guide him from the window, but he didn't budge. It only got her a scowl before he slid down to the floor.

That was when she noticed how pale he was. DJ reached forward, pressed the back of her palm to Jackson's forehead properly. His skin felt like ice.

"Michelle?!" DJ called for her sister from the doorway. She didn't take her eyes off of Jackson. He continued to sit. And stare out his window. Her voice rose to a shriek, "Michelle!"

"What?" Michelle looked expectantly at DJ as she walked in and then her forehead wrinkled as she spotted Jackson. "I didn't expect him to be up till morning."

"He's cold to the touch." DJ spoke rapidly, hands flying. Since Jackson had presented, he'd always been warm. Sometimes too warm, like with his fever, or during his rut, but he'd never been cold.

Michelle's eyes widened, "That's not a pheromone thing." She moved to press her own hand to Jackson's forehead. He groused, swatting sluggishly at her.

"Are you saying you don't know what's wrong?" DJ's voice grew tight as Michelle shook her head.

With a quick sniff and a glance out the window, "I'd guess it has to do with Ramona, but I've never scent marked an omega, Deej, or bonded with one."

The two sisters exchanged a look before nodding simultaneously, "Aunt Becky." Michelle sped from the room as DJ fussed over Jackson, attempting to wrap him in a blanket.

Becky marched in to the room, took one look at Jackson and sighed, "It's definitely Ramona."

"How?" DJ gestured towards the window, "He's nowhere near her. I know he can smell her, but-"

"It's her heat, it's burning away his scent." Becky tapped at the scent gland on her neck, "If a bonded pair is separated during the omega's heat, they lose their scent mark."

DJ raised a brow, "It was an accident though, it's not a real bond. Not like a mate or-"

"All scent marks are bonds, Deej, even if accidental," Michelle interrupted from the doorway, arms crossed and nose scrunched up, "For better or worse, scent marks bond a person to an alpha."

"Usually omega's have a long build up to their heats, the marking goes away gradually unless an alpha continuously reapplies it," Becky's hands moved outward, a blush rising to her cheeks. "When it's done suddenly, well…" Becky gestured towards Jackson, "…it's not pleasant for either of them."

"He doesn't look like he's in pain or anything?" Michelle tilted her head to the side, "Are you sure?"

Becky nodded, arms crossed, "It's more anguish than pain, depending on the level of bonding. The fact that he was exposed to pheromones might be working in his favor." She glanced over at the Gibbler house with a grimace, "Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure that makes it worse for Ramona."

DJ was standing with her mouth hanging open, color draining from her face as she looked at her son. He whined slowly, hand rising to press against his swollen scent gland.

-.-.-

Jesse was careful how he held Ramona as he and Kimmy helped her stumble into her bedroom at her father's house.

"Fernando added a bunch of stuff to keep her safe," Kimmy fiddled with a remote, her face pinched together in worry.

Jesse looked around. He recognized the preventative measures. The thicker glass, double paned, and no doubt a coating of scent masking oil between them. The filters were less obvious, especially with the vents closed, but once Kimmy got them to activate, the familiar whirring told him all he needed to know.

"There should be water bottles and bags of ice downstairs in the freezer too," Kimmy smiled at him, bright and wide, but her hands were gripping the fabric of her skirt so tightly that her knuckles were already white.

"Don't worry, Gibbler," Jesse squeezed her shoulder. Kimmy nodded and then slipped from the room.

He didn't tell her that sudden heats, especially those triggered by alphas, were usually the worst. He didn't tell her that the scent marking from Jackson would make it even worse. Kimmy already knew. He could see it in the lines on her forehead and how quickly she retrieved the supplies that Fernando kept prepared.

Jesse took a seat at the empty desk by the door. Omegas weren't particularly helpful in this situation. Hell, if he were a decade younger, being in the same room as a non-blood-related omega would have triggered his own heat.

"Who knew there was something good about growing older?" Jesse joked to himself. He grimaced as Ramona began to whine and writhe on the bed.

Kimmy jumped in to action with a warm water bottle and a cold compress. They quieted Ramona for a moment, but it was just the first wave.

"Alright, kid," Jesse leaned over Ramona's bed to force eye contact. Her pupils were blown, but clear as a flashlight. "This is gonna suck," Jesse watched her throat bob and her lips purse to hold in a scream, "And it's only gonna get worse. Did your dad explain about triggered heats?"

"No," Kimmy whispered when Ramona's eyes suddenly closed. Her fingers dug into her sheets as she whined. Kimmy took a breath, "Fernando's had a few of them before though."

Jesse nodded, he waited until Ramona's eyes blinked back open. He gave her a weak smile, "Good thing is, they're shorter."

"What's the bad part?" Ramona gasped as another wave of heat squeezed at her organs. Her legs began to shake from trying to clench her thighs together.

"They're more intense," Jesse chose to rip the bandaid off, "And Jackson's scent is going to literally burn from your body."

Kimmy's eyes widened along with Ramona's, "What?"

"Wh-what? Why?" Ramona fidgeted over her sheets. A hand absently rose to her scent gland. It was hot to the touch and the sudden contact sent another wave of cramps through her body.

"Normally it happens slowly during heat, slowly leaking off," Jesse made a trickling motion with his hands, "This is gonna be more like a geiser, gushing."

Ramona whimpered and Jesse wasn't sure if it was from the thought of what was to come. another wave of pain, or perhaps his poor imitation of an explosion.

"Couldn't…" Ramona clamped her mouth shut before she finished her question, but Jesse still shook his head.

With a chuckle and a sigh, Jesse placed a small bag of ice over Ramona's scent gland, "No, he can't help you." Ramona bit her lip and nodded.

Kimmy and Jesse both retreated then. He grabbed the desk chair as they moved to the hall. Kimmy closed the door and immediately leaned against it. Her head tilted back.

Each time Ramona cried out, Kimmy flinched. When she screamed, they went in - hot water bottles and ice packs were replaced, the cold compress on her forehead wet down. It was a long and slow night.

"I wish I could say this wasn't normal," Jesse offered as Kimmy sank to the floor. Her hands were shaking.

"I've sat out in a hallway with Fernando through enough of them to know," Kimmy shrugged. She swallowed back a quiet sob and wiped at her face with the back of her hand.

Jesse nodded, lips pursed. As useless as he felt right then, Jesse knew betas couldn't be around *any* omegas during theit heats, even relatives.

Ramona whined for Jackson again. They both ignored it.

Another three cycles went by. Jesse took the job of refilling the hot water bottle from a kettle downstairs each time. He knew from Alex's heats that fussing over your kid was about as helpful as one could feel at that moment.

When he walked into the room, Ramona had both hands wrapped around her mother's wrists. Her nails bit into Kimmy's skin, but she didn't even wince.

"It's gonna be okay," Kimmy whispered, running her other hand through Ramona's damp hair. "Soon it'll pass and you'll fall asleep okay?" Kimmy continued to sooth as Jesse placed the hot water bottle against Ramona's side.

The air was thick and he had to shake his head to dislodge the haze already pushing at his mind. He saw the ice pack dripping onto the pillow and moved to refill it as well.

"Mommy, please stay!" Ramona begged as Kimmy started peeling her fingers off of her wrist. Her voice shook and a sob slipped from her lips, but Kimmy just shook her head and kept peeling.

Once they were out in the hallway, Kimmy started crying in earnest. Jesse closed the door of the bedroom swiftly. The haze of Ramona's heat dissipated, the fog of her scent trapped behind the door.

"I'm sorry, Kimmy," Jesse wrapped an arm around Kimmy's shaking shoulders. She turned into his shoulder to sob on his shirt. Normally, he'd push her away, but Jesse attempted to sooth her as best he could, shushing her softly and rocking slightly.

"It's so much harder with her," Kimmy gasped as Ramona called out for her this time. Jesse squeezed her tight into a hug. "She's asking for me and I can't do anything!"

Jesse had absolutely no words to help her. When Alex had heats, he'd been able to sit in the room with his son. Nicky and Rebecca had told him how lucky he was, but watching Kimmy fall to pieces because she couldn't, and her daughter was alone.

"Ask Fernando to get you a mask," Jesse suggested as Kimmy pulled away. She scrubbed at her face with one of her sleeves. She looked at him with wide, hopeful, eyes, "Informercial I saw, said you could sit in an omega's scent cloud for at least an hour before it knocks you out…might be worth the money. Especially for situations like this, with him gone."

Kimmy nodded, a tight smile spread across her face, "Thanks." Jesse rocked backwards on his heels. Kimmy cleared her throat, "Can I ask you something?" Jesse looked at her, eyebrows raised, "Does it mean something? Who they ask for?"

Jesse swallowed a lump that suddenly formed in his throat. It did, it most definitely did, but he saw more than a little nervousness in Kimmy's eyes. And she'd said 'they.'

"Depends," Jesse shrugged and looked away. Kimmy sighed, a short and whispy little thing that sounded halfway to being an hysterical laugh. He bit his lip, took a breath, "I've only ever asked for Rebecca."

"Yeah…" Kimmy sunk down into the chair she'd pulled from Jimmy's room. She traced the stains on the cushion, "That's what I figured."

Ramona screamed again and Kimmy launched herself into the room. Jesse followed. The night only got longer from there.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!


	14. Denial and Bad Lying

Rated T. A/B/O Dynamics. Drama/Humor.

Jackson's got a hangover, post-heat Ramona has her own recovery to deal with, and denial is everyone's best friend.

* * *

**Denial and Bad Lying  
**

This was it. This was the suckiest his life had ever been.

"Don't worry, Rocki punched Bryce in the face after that - and Lola sicced the cheerleading squad on him for insinuating she'd let you and Ramona bang in her father's office."

And Popko was enjoying it far too much.

There was a ding that ricocheted all through his skull before Popko started howling with the laughter, "His wrist and his cheek are the same shade of purple. So awesome!"

Jackson groaned and shoved the pillow off his face so he could aim a proper scowl at Popko, "Dude, my head is killing me, at least put your phone on vibrate."

"Dude, it can't be that bad," Popko didn't even look up from his phone as he shrugged, "You've been hung over before."

A poorly aimed pillow hit Popko's hands, knocking the phone to the floor. "Alcohol and pheromones are not the same thing," Jackson grumbled before plopping his face directly into his mattress.

Alcohol had just given him a massive headache. Sure, sounds had seemed louder, but this? This was not louder sounds, this was…

Hell. Yes, that worked.

The sounds were longer, pulling across his brain like a boat propeller through water.

And the smells! Being drunk had done nothing to his nose - although, technically, he'd never been drunk as an alpha, but it sure as hell wasn't going on his bucket list!

"We should document this, ya know," Popko gestured with his phone, tapping Jackson's foot with the device as he stood up. "You're a new alpha line right? So, like, this could be useful information for your descendants."

A snort from the doorway signaled the arrival of Michelle. The door was wide open and Jackson really wanted to know how she'd done that so quietly.

"My mom's whole line left oodles of records, dude. Wasn't helpful." Michelle strolled into the room and plopped into Popko's recently vacated seat. "I did just write down all of the alpha traits I remember your dad having for DJ though…so, hey, maybe your doc will be better than mine."

Popko was staring, mouth open, at Michelle.

Jackson smacked his leg, "Dude. She's my aunt."

His super cool alpha aunt who wore torn black jeans with flannel apparently, but it was still creepy for someone to be ogling her right in front of him.

"You're family's got *very* good genes," Popko shook his head, smile faintly wistful. Jackson smashed his last remaining pillow into Popko's face and then dragged him on to the bed.

It was a short wrestling match before Popko was whining, his back now acting as Jackson's pillow support. He was reaching for his hat until Michelle picked it up with her foot.

"So you'd be Jackson's Kimmy then?" Michelle pointed at Popko as she placed the hat on her head. The gothy hipster vibe was complete. Her nose wrinkled, "Popcorn?"

"Popko." Jackson corrected her as Popko attempted to sputter out some sort of offended comment from beneath his head.

Michelle shrugged, "Whatever." She kicked her feet up onto his bed. "I've been assigned alpha watch, so entertain me," Michelle gestured with her hand, fingers wiggling emphatically.

Jacksom blinked as her words - kindly spoken in a soft voice that did not ricochet through his head quite as violent as everything else - slowly filtered through his brain to process.

"Alpha watch?" Jackson's forehead creased. It was like the cogs in his head had been kickstarted - the dust, grim, and cobwebs left behind by the pheromones vaporized by the phrase.

He didn't need much context to figure out that Michelle was officially babysitting him. And if his mom thought he needed babysitting…

"What *exactly* did I do last night?" Jackson gulped as he tried to recall what happened. The memories were not coming up in a clear or timely fashion.

"You mean besides telling your mom that Ramona was essentially cuddling you through your knots?" Michelle drawled, eyes lidded as she shook her head at him.

Popko's entire head popped up and his voice was a near screech beside Jackson's ear, "Your what?!" Jackson groaned as Popko shoved Jackson up and away to sit up beside him. "Dude! You never told *me* that?!"

"I mean, does any alpha actually admit to having knots outside a pheromone high?" Michelle's arms moved outward in an exaggerated shrug as she practically cackled.

Jackson reached for a pillow to smother himself.

"Still!" Popko grabbed the pillow before Jackson could even get it over his face. Instead, he got Popko's face - nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed - at far too close a distance.

"Dude, how much body spray are you wearing?!" Jackson shoved at Popko's head as he started to gag. Proximity plus hangover meant Jackson reached for his trash can very quickly.

Never had he been so thankful for an empty stomach.

Popko grumbled behind him as Jackson dry heaved. Mostly a bunch of nonsense about bro code and the authenticity of his pro-con list.

Jackson tuned it out.

"I knew you had a thing for Ramona!"

And he tuned right back in, eyes wide and jaw dropped, "What?!"

Screeches did not phase Popko, who was nodding vigorously to himself. "Ever since she blew out the candles at your sixth birthday party -"

"Wow, she really is a Gibbler huh?" Michelle chuckled to herself.

"- you've been total heart eyes for her." Popko was grinning now, completely ignoring the fact that all of the blood in Jackson's face had drained away. "I mean, you've always had a thing for bossy women - Lola, Rocki - Ramona's like, the OG boss in your life."

Michelle continued to comment, "Are these girls actually bossy or are they just, like, confident and unwilling to put up with your shitty attitudes?"

"Both," Popko turned to Michelle with finger guns at the ready, "Jackson's pretty pathetically servile though, so it's hard to tell."

"I am not servile!" Jackson huffed and scrunched his forehead together.

Popko snorted and leveled his eyes on Jackson, "Dude, you in a relationship is the most annoying thing. You spend every second trying to make sure they're happy."

"Well, yeah, but…" Jackson pursed his lips.

He had no rebuttal. But, hey, at least the nausea was gone.

"Oh, wow," Michelle was full-on Cheshire cat grinning now. Popko took a step away from her, eyebrows raised. She looked at Jackson, "You're literally just your dad with better hair aren't you?"

Jackson didn't know how to respond to that. Or to Michelle's now maniacal laughter. She was folded over herself, blond hair cascading down her legs as her back shook.

"Is anyone in your family normal?" Popko stared at Michelle with one eyebrow raised. Jackson looked at her, looked at Popko, and shrugged.

"Probably not," Jackson pursed his lips, "But it's not like you can talk, dude, you choose to hang out here."

Popko shook his head and gripped his hair, "Rocki's right. This is a cult."

That only served to make Michelle start laughing harder.

Jackson was kind of impressed with her lung capacity really.

-.-.-

"Alright, almost there!" Jimmy's smile didn't falter for a single second as he carried Ramona up the kitchen stairs. "How ya doin'?"

Ramona groaned against his shoulder, head still lulling to the side, "So tired."

"You'll be in your own bed before ya know it!" Jimmy said as he stepped into the second floor hallway.

Laughter was ringing from Jackson's room. A shrill feminine laughter. Ramona's stomach dropped.

"Is it just me, or is Michelle the scariest Tanner sister?" Jimmy whispered, brows furrowing as he paused outside Ramona's room.

The laughter died down for a moment before rising suddenly again, this time deeper and harsher. Ramona hooked her chin on her uncle's shoulder as she attempted to listen to it.

Everything smelled off now, a little rougher, sharper maybe?

"She cornered me in the kitchen earlier," Jimmy continued to ramble as he knelt to lay Ramona on her bed. She made some attempts to help, but every muscle in her body was still screaming sore. "Apparently if I break Stephanie's heart, she'll have me gutted. Which, like, fair, but…but terrifying."

Jimmy nodded to himself, eyes narrowed and focused on a spot at the foot of Ramona's bed. Ramona smiled, she patted his arm, "Don't worry Uncle Jimmy, Stephanie will protect you."

"Thank goodness for that!" Jimmy's face split into a grin again, he chuckled, "I don't think I'd be a particular tasty fillet."

Ramona sunk into her mattress as Jimmy left the room. The Tanner house was overrun with scents - cherries from the Tanners, a bitter orange from the various Gladstones, and the oddly comforting smell of hairspray that clung to every Gibbler she'd ever met like feathers to tar.

It was absolutely impossible for her to narrow a smell down to an individual person. Not even Jackson. And before last night, she'd been able to pinpoint Jackson's smell almost effortlessly.

Scent-marker gone. Yay! Ish.

With a groan, Ramona burried her head in pillows.

Feeling unmoored just because she couldn't find Jackson's stupid scent?! Ridiculous. She didn't even like cherry pie!

Well, she didn't *not* like cherry pie. It was more… apathy.

She'd only ever had chocolate pie before really, and once a pumpkin pie when her mother had a pumpkin themed party. Cherry just sounded too sweet, ya know?

Did she need to actually try cherry pie to know if she liked it? Or, well, disliked, obviously.

Ramona's face pinched together as the metaphor spiraled further and further through her head.

"I don't know what you're thinking about, but you definitely look like you have a headache!" Max waltzed into her room with a tray and his chin in the air. "Which means I've come just in the knick of time!"

A flourish from Max presented Ramona with a tall glass of water and two aspirins. He smiled at hers, eyes fluttering dramatically.

"Thank you," Ramona chuckled as she took the meds and the water. Max nodded primly, a smug cheerfulness radiating from his whole body. "Now, what are you up to?"

Max froze, and then he fidgeted, "Nothing."

"Uh-huh," Ramona tilted her head back and dropped the pills down her throat. She sipped her water, eyes focused over the top of the glass on Max.

"Alright!" Max broken before she even set the glass down. "I heard my mom talking about you and Jackson with my aunts - "

"You were eavesdropping, got it."

"I was not eavesdropping!" Max waved his hand in front of his body, eyes narrowed, "I just *happen* to overhear, not my fault they didn't notice me."

Sometimes the family resemblance between Max and Jackson would sneak up and smack her in the face. Sometimes it just stared at her from Max's face as he attempted to make better worded excuses than his brother.

"Anyway," Max raised his chin in the air, "They mentioned some…stuff, and I wanted to check on you." He fidgeted, arms crossed as if that didn't make his concern more obvious.

"I'm…sore?" Ramona shrugged, wincing slightly as her shoulder muscles protested. "You're vaguely aware of what an omega heat is like right?"

Max shuddered, "Enough to know I do *not* want to be an omega." His eyes widened suddenly and his hands started waving again, "Not that there's anything wrong with being an omega!"

"I get it, Max," Ramona chuckled, lips twitching up as Max started stuttered. She raised her glass in a faux salute, "And I appreciate you checking on me."

"Yeah, well, I saw you that one time, when Jackson was in here all night…" Max looked at his shoes and Ramona choked on the water she'd started sipping. "…you didn't look so good then either."

Ramona cleared her throat and set her glass on her bedside table. Her hands shook, "I didn't know you saw me like that."

"Jackson agreed to do my chores if I didn't mention it to anyone," Max shrugged as he grinned smugly, eyebrows dancing slightly, "But you already knew about it, so… contract intact."

One day, Max was going to be an amazing lawyer. Or a tycoon.

"You were really pale then, just like now, and you made this whining noise, like you were in pain or something," Max puckered his lips and scuffed his foot on the floor. His eyebrows lowered into a soft scowl as he looked away from her.

"Well, I was fine then," Ramona lied, plastering a smile on her face, "And I'm fine now too." Max raised a brow at her very obvious lie. "I promise."

Max rolled his eyes, "You're worse than Jackson." He stalked out of the room before Ramona could be properly offended.

That was completely uncalled for! Ramona was a perfectly decent liar. And really, no one was a worse liar than Jackson. No one!

Ramona sunk back into her pillows. Her body throbbed as she stared at her ceiling. The world around her spun on as Ramona listened to the silence of her room.

Muscles in her abdomen constricted and her lower back sent a few sharp twinges up her spine in either retaliation or solidarity. Either way, Ramona bit her lip to stop a yell from escaping.

Twenty minutes later when Kimmy peeked her head inside, Ramona was dead to the world. Passed out from a combination of pain from her heat's aftershocks and the painkillers Kimmy had told Max were aspirin.

They were strong painkillers too. Ramona didn't wake up for six hours. And even then, that was Jackson's fault, not the pills' efficacy.

"Uh, hey…" Jackson stood frozen in her doorway, hand raised to knock on the door that had creaked all the way open when he'd tapped it.

Ramona blinked at him, sitting up. His scent wafted over and the tightness in her muscles relaxed slightly as she breathed in flaky pie crust and cinnamon marinated cherries.

Oh no.

She wasn't on suppressants anymore.

"Hey…" Ramona sputtered out, her lips were tight as she tried to smile. Jackson shifted from foot to foot.

He didn't cross the threshold.

It was an arbitrary boundary, but… Ramona appreciated it. She watched his Adam's apple bob as her own unfiltered scent invaded his nostrils.

"How'r-….what's-…" Ramona sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears. She huffed. Her eyes flickered from Jackson to her bed sheets.

Words were hard. The air was thick with their scents, floating around and mixing together as if there was nothing wrong with that. As if cinnamon and cayenne have any business occupying the same space.

"Well, you smell horrible now." Jackson blurted out. A nervous chuckle followed. Ramona raised a brow. Jackson looked at his feet,"Ya know, cause you don't smell like me anymore and I smell awesome, obviously."

Ramona's eyes fluttered as Jackson lifted his head, face pinched as his own words processed through his head.

"Right, sorry, that was lame and this is super awkward." Jackson ran a hand through his hair, lips pressed together into a frown. "I should probably-

"It's fine," Ramona cut him off. Jackson's brows furrowed as his eyes finally rose to meet hers. She cleared her throat, "I mean, you're right - this is awkward."

"I'm…right?" Jackson's mouth twitched upwards, "Okay, maybe I should go get Kimmy cause you're obviously still running a fever."

Ramona laughed, doubling over so her hair fell forward into her face. Jackson's lips parted into a full smile now.

"At least we won't have to worry about the scent marked thing making it awkward between us," Ramona offered with a shrug as she leaned back against her head board.

Jackson's eyebrow rose and he leaned against the door jam. Ramona found her gaze grazing over Jackson's languid figure. She cleared her throat and looked away.

"Yeah..." Jackson snorted. His own eyes moving to the wall above her head, "…because non-marked awkward is so much better!"

The sarcasm was typical, but there was a bite to his voice that had Ramona squeezing her thighs together. She forced a smile, "Things will go back to normal eventually."

Her red cheeks and trembling lips did nothing to persuade Jackson. When his eyes dropped to her face again, she barely registered the dilated pupils before Jackson pushed off from the doorway and fled down the hall.

Ramona really needed to learn how to lie better.

* * *

Reviews Always Appreciated!

It'll be a bit before my next update - moving in just a few weeks!


End file.
